


A New Suffering

by PrillyPayne



Series: A New Beginning [2]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead (Web Series), The Walking Dead Series - Robert Kirkman & Jay Bonansinga
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, F/M, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Multi, Other, POV Multiple, POV Original Female Character, POV Third Person, The Walking Dead Greene Farm, The Walking Dead References, The Walking Dead Season Two, The Walking Dead Universe, The walking dead comics - Freeform, Walkers (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25473553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrillyPayne/pseuds/PrillyPayne
Summary: A dwindling group of survivors desperately searches for refuge from a world consumed by the walking dead. In the middle of this broken group is Mel, an ex-marine and ex-walker, who struggles with the sobering reminder that there are worst monsters than living corpses. Her past can no longer be forgotten and she is forced to confront the darkest parts of herself. Only this time she doesn’t have to do it alone.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon & Original Female Character(s), Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s), Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Rick Grimes/Original Female Character(s)
Series: A New Beginning [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845181
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of a series.  
> For part one, please see "A New Beginning". 
> 
> Thank you!

Under the late summer sun, a station wagon, ‘73 Winnebago, and an unapologetically loud motorcycle enter an empty county highway. Mel rode on the back of Daryl’s roaring bike and watched the landscape metamorphose from open highway to residential neighborhoods and back to highway. With everything that had happened, losing Adam, half their camp being killed by walkers, and the CDC blowing up, it all seemed to fade away the further they traveled from Atlanta. She was surprised to find herself hopeful for what was to come. They were heading to Fort Benning, Another rumored safe haven for survivors of the walking dead. She doubted it was still there but felt confident they could turn it into a place of their own.

Vacant stretches of roads slowly gave way to yet another obstacle course of abandoned vehicles. Not an unusual sight since the collapse of humanity but still an inconvenience. In different circumstances the tight cluster of cars and trucks might have been your typical weekday traffic jam. The only thing missing were the people. Empty vehicles littered both sides of the highway and spilled into the grassy median. Upon a closer look some cars were overturned, trash littered the ground along with personal items such as clothes, and corpses lay unmoving. 

The early morning sun reflected off the abandoned lot like a shining white river. The RV at the head of the caravan stopped so everyone could survey the area. Mel watched as its driver, a man named Dale with a salt and pepper bearded adorned in a fishing hat and loud tropical shirt, exited the RV. He was followed by the young eager faced Asian boy, Glenn, who was responsible for finding her in Atlanta. The two stood side by side next to the RV and squinted into the reflective light of the cars in their path until a third man joined them. 

The unofficial leader of their group, Rick, stood upright and confident next to them as he too squinted into the glare. He contemplated the sea of metal outstretched in front of them as he adjusted his sheriff's hat. The two men looked to Rick for guidance, waiting patiently for him to explain their next move. From the back of the caravan, Mel could see his confidence waver. What was anticipated to be a few hours ride turned into days with exhaustion and the dead constantly wearing them down. Then there were the roadblocks such as the one in front of them now. Seeming to have been struck with an idea, Rick walked with purpose toward Mel and Daryl.

“There’s no way around this and tracking backwards means fifty or so of miles out of our way. Can you get in there and see how far it goes? Maybe pick out a path?” Rick asked. 

Daryl nodded and revved the engine of his motorcycle before taking off. Slowly they bobbed and weaved through the cars with grace for what felt like more than mile when it abruptly ended at the scene of an gruesome accident. Several cars were flipped over with body parts mangled in the wheel wells. Blood painted the pavement in deep shades of red and brown, smeared like a child's painting. It told the story of what happened almost as clear as if they had been there themselves.

A walker pawed at the glass from inside one of the overturned cars as they circled around in the open road beyond the crash. Daryl and Mel reported their findings to the rest of the group who were now all standing in the road. After a quick discussion the path was sketched out. They were a machine fueled by determination, moving the abandoned vehicles systematically so their small caravan could progress forward. 

Everything was going smoothly when there was a sudden loud pop. White smoke erupted from the grill of the RV, hissing loudly. Dale threw it in park, threw the door open, and came to its front. “I said it! Didn't I say it? I said it a thousand times!” He shouted and smacked the hood of the RV. “Dead in the water.”

“Is there a problem?” Glenn jogged over to the smoking RV.

“It’s that God forsaken radiator hose. I kept saying it was going to bust. Didn't I?” Dale continued to rant.

“Okay, stupid question.” Glenn muttered.

“Now it’s just a small matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of…” He trailed off as he looked out into the unlimited field of engine parts. 

“I'd be damned if you couldn't find one out there somewhere.” T-dog suggested, “Shit, I bet there's a whole lot we can find out here.” Gesturing with a nudge of his head.

“Yeah, I bet you’re right.” Glenn added with a smile, walking up next to him. The rest of the group turned to survey the sea of cars as well, hands to their foreheads against the sun, staring with anticipation like a group of Black Friday shoppers waiting for the doors to open. Daryl wasted no time and started digging into the nearest car. Mel joined him.

“I could siphon some of this gas for a start.” T-dog offered. 

“You think there could be water in some of them?” Andrea added.

“There has to be. Food too.” T-dog started searching through the nearest car followed by the others in on the conversation.

“This is a graveyard.” Lori spoke loudly and accusingly. Those looking through the cars paused to look at her. “I don't know how I feel about this.” She said more quietly and looked to Rick.

A loud snort came from Mel who was leaning half way into a minivan in the right lane. Lori leered at her. “Do you have something to say?” Lori crossed her arms and shifted all her weight to one leg.

Even if Lori hadn’t said anything, Mel could have probably felt her eye grinding into her back. Mel looked over her shoulder with her face hardened in anticipation for Lori. Just as she suspected, Lori stood glaring at her. Thankful for her intuition, Mel turned up the sass and swaggered to the end of the van, leaned up against its side, and put her hand on her curvy hip that she stuck out dramatically. “Yeah.” She answered with equal attitude, “Where do you think all the stuff I bought to camp came from?”

Lori looked at her stupidly. Mel enjoyed watching her confidence crumble. She had successfully out sassed Lori. She averted her eyes and her arms uncrossed and hugged her torso as Mel relentlessly stared at her with vibrant opal eyes. It was time to put Lori in her place. “The whole world is a graveyard. If you pass up on resources like this because you think it’s ‘disrespectful’ then you aren't gonna survive.” Mel spat. 

Lori looked as if she had been physically slapped. To make an even louder point, Mel walked off into the maze of vehicles, leaving her with the last word. Lori scoffed and started to pace with agitation, asking Rick to reconsider. He couldn't deny the reality of their situation. They needed whatever they could find. Impatient and annoyed with his wife's priorities, Rick dismissed her by suggesting she stay in their car. Fuming, Lori stormed off to the rear of the RV. Rick sighed heavily and reluctantly went after her. 

While Rick and Lori argued, Daryl and T-dog traveled from one car to another siphoning gas. Glenn searched for a hose similar to the one that broke on the RV while Dale fought with the engine for a few more minutes before retreating to its roof in defeat. Andrea preferred to sit inside the RV to practice cleaning her gun. Shane pretended to search the vehicles for supplies while he stalked Mel who was actually looking for supplies.

Mel knew what Shane was doing. Ever since he threatened her in the woods with a gun two days prior she kept a watchful eye on him. She never could understand why he disliked her. Once he found out she had turned into a walker and been brought back, he finally had his reason. For a moment, Shane thought he had the upper hand knowing her secret but turns out no one really cared. After everything they had all been through, living with a revived walker wasn’t very shocking. 

What still got a reaction out of everyone were Mel’s otherworldly eyes. Whatever happened during the process from walker to human, her eye color mutated into an orgy of vibrant hues. They were what set her apart from normal people, people that were susceptible to the wildfire virus. Mel had been cured and as far as she or the other’s knew, was completely immune. Dr. Adam Pearce, her longtime friend and ex, was the only one who knew the details of her revival because he was the one who cured her. After they got separated in Atlanta and he joined the hoard of dead, the beginning of her new life has been a mystery. 

Rick quickly lost patience with his wife and left her to join the others. Lori remained in the sweltering heat of the car for several minutes out of pure stubbornness. Eventually she gave up her childish pouting when she saw her son, Carl, with Sophia searching through the abandon cars. Watching her child scavenging in for food and water filled her mouth with a sour taste. She left the car and instructed them to play instead, then joined Carol who was looking through someone’s forgotten luggage. 

Carol smiled politely as Lori approached her and opened up a new suitcase next to her. They giggled together as she held up an absurdly pink lace onesie. Carol pulled out a low cut flowery dress and held it up to her chest admiringly. 

“Ed never let me wear nice things like this.” She admitted. 

Lori let the silence become awkward before speaking. “Most of our clothes were left at the CDC. I suppose we can’t keep wearing the same thing day after day.” She pulled out a light orange t-shirt and sniffed it carefully. “Still smells fresh.” She said with apprehension. Carol did the same and nodded in agreement. 

Everyone quickly became engrossed in their own activities. They worked in silence for close to an hour when the collective concentration was broken by excited shouting. 

“Hey! Were we short on water?” Shane’s voice rang out. Everyone jerked their heads around to the source of the shouting. Several yards ahead of their convoy, Shane had lifted the side doors of a truck half the size of a semi and was pouring out one of about fifty jugs of water onto himself like a shower. He laughed and celebrated loudly while the others hooted and hollered their excitement from a distance. 

“Save me some!” Rick shouted back playfully.

“It’s like bein’ baptized, man!” Shane laughed as the last of the water drained from the jug. 

Mel rolled her eyes and smiled. Good spirits were few and far between these days and she liked seeing everyone happy. However, with Shane distracted, Mel took the opportunity to slip out of his radar. She preferred to do her prospecting without the feeling of eyes drilling into her back. Mel picked out a canary yellow Volkswagen bug several yards ahead and quickly walked to it so she could resume her search.

A smile lingered on Rick as he looked around at everyone. Mel was unaccounted for which made him uneasy. Rick raised his rifle to search through its scope but still could not see her. He turned to Dale who was still up on the roof of the RV. He was about to ask him if he could see where Mel was when the look on his face made Rick’s words catch in his throat. He followed Dale’s sight to the back of the traffic jam where they entered and caught glimpses of movement. Rick again raised his rifle again and through its sight he could see the head of a lumbering walker with a chunk missing from the side of its face. He wrapped the rifle’s sling around his arm to steady his aim and he slowed his breathing. Just as he was about to take the shot another walker emerged from behind the first, and another, and another until he was looking at nearly a hundred of them. The dead had snuck up on them and were now filling in to the narrow passes between vehicles.

Rick’s stomach plummeted to his bowels. Quickly, he turned and ran to Lori and Carol who were closest and whispered frantically for them to get down. Both women dropped to the ground without question. Carol instinctively tried to call out to Sophia who was a few feet out of reach but Lori silenced her. Rick whispered the same commands to the children before diving under the nearest car. Awareness of the horde was gradual, like the spread of water through cracks on dry cement. As the dead closed in, each of the group took notice and ducked under the nearest car. 

Mel fell into her usual rhythm of scavenging. She was happy to find a new backpack for herself. It was black and grey with a thousand different pockets which she already had half full with water bottles, medicine, and food. As she was about to enter another car, something made her look up. A few cars ahead of her was a white cargo van. Mel did a double take as she realized it was the exact same make and model as the one she, Adam, and Sargent Ludington crashed in in Atlanta. She knew it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise since there were millions of the same cargo van all over the country. Still, she gravitated toward it like a moth to porch light. 

Slowly she walked up to it, staring at the passenger door as if expecting to see Adam sitting there waiting for her. Mel walked up to the door and tried the door. She thought it would be locked but it opened with ease. The passenger seat was empty and so to as the driver’s seat. Mel dropped her backpack on the dusty floor where the metal case had been in her van. She stepped in and slid into the passenger seat, leaving the door ajar. She sat there for several minutes unsure of what she was doing. Mel looked in the back almost expecting to see herself sitting on the open floor, buzz cut, cargo pants and all, fresh from the afterlife. Instead she saw rolls of window tint, ladders, squeegees, and bottles of glass cleaner. Her vision blurred and her eyes began to burn with a sudden rush of tears. Before they had a chance to spill past her eyelids, Mel turned and slid out of the door open.

She shoved the palms of her hands in her eyes to force away the tears. That was when she heard it. The unmistakable growl of the dead. Without thinking Mel dropped to the ground and looked around. From her kneeling position she could see the tops of a dozen heads slowly bobbing towards her from between the cars. Mel wiped her damp hands on her pants and quietly closed the door before she crawled under the van, cursing her boobs for being so big. Not a moment too soon either. Several seconds later the dead filtered past, shuffling slowly with uncoordinated steps and rasping breath. Silently, she laid on her stomach and watched as dirty shoes shuffled all around her. Some were missing one or both shoes and walking in dirty torn socks or even barefoot. One didn’t have a foot at all and limped along on its mangled stump, clacking like a high heel as the protruding bone impacted the asphalt. Mel’s mind raced with thoughts about the others. She hadn’t heard anything before the dead came so they must have seen them coming and hid like she did. If she would have just put up with Shane’s insufferable staring then she wouldn’t have separated herself from the group and put herself in danger. Mel was supposed to be the one who was immune. She should be putting herself between her group and the dead, not the other way around. If anything happened to them, Mel would never forgive herself. 

The walker parade seemed to last for nearly an hour when in reality it was no more than a minute or two. When it seemed like the last few were just about to leave, Mel heard high pitched screaming coming from where the rest of her group was. The consistent lumbering of the corpses slowed to a stop. Mel watched their feet change direction and start back towards the screaming. After they passed her van, Mel slid out silently with her knife and shoved the blade into each of their soft temples without any taking notice. As she dealt with the last of the stragglers she heard shouts echo over the river of vehicles. Mel whipped the van door open to quickly grab her bag then started running as fast as she could towards them. 

“What happened?” Mel shouted as she slowed her pace and joined the group. 

They had all gathered at the guard rail that separated the road from a three foot drop into the adjacent forest. Carol was hysterically crying and nearly dragging Lori to the ground as she attempted to console her. Shane held Carl, who was also crying, against his right hip.

Daryl walked up beside her and said, “Some walkers gone after Sofia and ran her into the woods.” His arms and shirt were smeared with blood.

Mel gasped the moment she looked at him. She grabbed him by both arms and frantically looked him over. “Where did you get hurt? Are you bit?” She asked out of breath. 

“It's not mine. T-dog cut his arm. He’s bleedin’ like a stuffed pig.” Daryl explained. Mel relaxed slightly and looked concerningly for T-dog. She found him sitting on the ground leaning up against a car and gripping a blood soaked bandage on his right forearm. He looked as if he was about to pass out. 

Mel whipped her head around and realized Rick was the only other one unaccounted for. She assumed he was going after Sophia so with one crisis being dealt with she was able to turned her attention to T-dog. She and Daryl walked over to him. Mel knelt in front of him. 

“Ay, shorty. Glad to see you’re okay.” He smiled.

Mel smiled despite herself. “Yeah, but you’re not. Let me see.” She gently grabbed his bloody arm and examined it. The wrap Daryl had quickly put on him was to the same quality as she would have done. Impressed with his knowledge of first aid, she recruited him to find more clean cloth while she assessed the wound. Carefully she unbandaged the wound. As soon as the pressure was off of it, blood poured through the cloth and onto the ground. It obviously needed stitches and if it wasn’t sterilized soon, T-dog would get an infection. 

Daryl quickly came back with a handful of cotton shirts and a long sheer scarf. Mel pulled out some small travel sized shooters she had found and together they sterilized the wound, changed the makeshift bandage, and turned the scarf into a sling. By the time they were finished, Rick emerged from the forest. He was alone. 

Carol initiated another wave of weeping when she saw Sophia wasn’t with him. Mel could see Rick was out of breath and drained white with concern. He didn’t say anything, just looked from one person to another then quickly retreated back into the trees. Daryl, Mel, Glenn, and Shane all followed as if he had verbally asked for their help. Still without speaking, Rick led them deep into the woods to a shallow stream that had a steep ledge with a small indentation hidden by a tangle of roots, perfect hiding spot for a kid.

“I left her right here.” He said, still out of breath, and pointed at the small indentation in the ledge. “I drew the walkers way off in that direction up the creek.”

“Yeah, without a paddle. Seems where we’ve landed.” Daryl said sarcastically.

“She was gone by the time I got back. I just figured she took off and ran back to the group. I told her to go that way and keep the sun on her left shoulder.” Rick pointed towards the way they came.

“Hey, yer muckin’ up the trail.” Daryl snapped at Glenn, who jumped to the side on his tippy toes and looked down as if he had stepped on some delicate and rare flower. 

Daryl walked over to the bank of the stream and examined the area. “Yeah, trail goes this way. She went back toward the road like you said.” He climbed up on the bank with a hand from Mel and continued to follow the trail.


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl followed the subtle footprints and disturbed leaf litter of Sophia’s trail with ease. Glenn dawdled behind, followed by Mel, with Rick and Shane bringing up the rear. The two men at the back quietly discussed how Sophia might have gotten lost which quickly turned into an argument the rest didn’t care to hear. They gave up their bickering when the trail took a sudden right turn.

“Hold up!” Shane hollered to Daryl. “Now just where in the hell do you think you’re goin’?” 

Everyone stopped and looked from Shane to Daryl. Mel couldn’t deny that she wondered the same. One moment they were following a straight path back to the road then abruptly veered off deeper into the woods. Her faith in Daryl’s abilities kept her quiet but it seemed Shane didn’t share the same beliefs. 

“I’m followin’ her god damn trail. What the fuck you think I’m doin’?” Daryl snapped. 

“She turned away from the road? Why?” Rick asked. 

Daryl retraced the trail and observed the immediate area. “Here.” He pointed to a nondescript patch on the ground. “This here don’t fit. Ain’t hers and ain’t none of ours.”

“Is it one of them?” Rick asked reluctantly.

“Hard to tell, but more than likely.” Daryl explained. “Trail goes this way.” He said and continued on.

“So what do we do? Just keep going?” Glenn asked, throwing his hands up.

“No, it would be better if you three headed back.” Rick explained. “People are going to start to panic. Let them know Daryl and I are on her trail doing everything we can. But most of all, keep everybody calm.” He emphasized.

Shane agreed and set off toward the road with Glenn who gave a curious glance back at Mel. Instead of following them like Rick told her to, Mel continued in the direction Daryl had went. Rick waved him on and caught up to Mel. 

“Hey, you don’t have to...” 

“I know.” Mel cut him off.

Rick cleared his throat and tried again, “I think they could really use your help back at the road.” 

She said nothing and kept walking. Rick sped up and reached out to touched her arm. Mel stopped dead in her tracks and whipped around. Rick bumped into her and fumbled backward, betrayed by his own momentum. His tired body wasn’t quick enough to catch his balance and he landed flat on his back. A friendly tree root greeted him eagerly just to the left of his spine. Rick groaned and quickly lifted his back off the root. 

Mel watched him with pitiful amusement. “How about you go back and I’ll keep looking?” She sneered with sarcasm. 

“Don’t give me that shit.” Rick grunted as he attempted to get to his feet. Mel didn’t appreciate his comment. She put out a hand as if to help him. Rick took it instinctually. As he was lifted from the ground Mel quickly weaved her right leg in and behind his. It was a simple position which required little effort on her part but it prevented him from regaining his balance. Rick was forced to cling to her arm awkwardly while his torso hovered over the ground like he was laying in an invisible recliner. 

“What is this?” He asked with frustration, unsure of what her intentions were.

“Unlike you, I’m not going to stop until I find her.” She growled with anger. 

Rick’s face hardened and he glared at her. “You weren’t out here. You don’t know what it was like.” 

“I know exactly what it’s fucking like. I’m one of the few people that do, but you want to send me back to the fucking road so you can stay here and jerk off.”

“We’ll find her. Now let me up.” Rick grunted, clearly struggling to hang onto her.

“You had your chance. What kind of dumb mother fucker leaves a scared child alone in the woods anyway?” She spat. 

Rick looked as if she had slapped him in the face. “I thought she’d be okay.” He said with regret and continued to stammer on breathlessly like an overdue confession. “I couldn’t carry her anymore and she wasn’t fast enough to outrun those walkers. I did what I ha…”

“Shut up.” She snapped, cutting off his incessant rambling. Mel leaned down and pulled him close. She watched with satisfaction as his face turned a bright crimson. Mel glared at him and in a low merciless tone, she asked, “Do you remember what I told you? Back in Atlanta?”

Rick only gave her a dumb confused look so she jerked him closer. He grunted and his eyes welled with pain. Mel suddenly realized her knee was digging into the soft mound between his legs. She maintained her composure even though she hadn’t meant to hurt him. She only had one thing to say before she could relieve him and it needed to be done right. Mel gently pushed his head to the side with hers so she could whisper, “I don’t need your fucking permission, sheriff.” She cooed, hoping every word landed softly on his ear for a dramatic effect. She pulled away just enough to look him dead in the eye and add a, “Got it?” to make her point final. 

Rick nodded obediently but had a strange look on his face. It wasn’t a look Mel was expecting and didn’t know how to read it. He wasn’t showing pain anymore, it was something different, something just under the surface of his eyes like a secret about to be told. Whatever it was, it threatened the atmosphere Mel had worked so hard to create. She quickly stood up, bringing him with her, and released her hold on him. Rick regained his balance then immediately doubled over to catch his breath. Mel felt a pang of remorse as he clutched at his tender crotch. 

“Hey! The fuck’s takin’ so long?” Daryl called out from far ahead of them. 

Mel left Rick to recover on his own but his face lingered in her mind. At the peak of her performance, there was a moment where it seemed like he was going to make a move on her. Maybe she strained herself too hard. It wasn’t easy holding a grown man off the ground for that long. Mel wrote it off as her imagination, it was the only thing that made sense. How could he think about making a move while his balls were being crushed? Unless he was into that kind of thing. Mel laughed to herself before the thought fully formed. At any rate, there was no way he would try anything with her, being the married man that he was. 

She caught up with Daryl who was waiting for her just over a small hill. There was a hint of curiosity in his eyes to which Mel responded with a small shake of her head. He understood and walked with her. They took their time continuing along the trial while Rick caught up. He was slow and walked with a slight limp but eventually met with them. Mel tried to look him in the eye but his gaze stayed on the ground. On occasions, she could see him shooting glances at her out of the corner of her eye. Mel worried she had taken things too far. She was just so sick of his attempts at being in charge. She knew fuel grunts from the service with more balls than him. Just because he was a cop before all this doesn’t mean he has to be the leader. It was times like this when he got too confident in himself that she felt the need to remind him of that. 

They walked along in silence as dusk consumed the forest quickly and suddenly. They would periodically called out for Sophia, taking care not to attract the dead. It was no good. Since going off on their own, they hadn’t heard so much as a twig snap. It was starting to get dark and doubt started to sink its sharp claws deeper into them. 

“Tracks are gone.” Rick sighed heavily with frustration.

“Naw. They’re faint, but they ain’t gone.” Daryl reaffirmed him. “She came through here.” He pointed at an obscure portion of the ground. 

“How can you tell?” Rick asked.

“Ya want lessons or ya want to find that girl and get our ass off the interstate?” Daryl tested.

Rick said nothing and continued to follow. They stalked silently for several minutes with their ears grasping at every sound. Eventually, the three of them fell into synchronicity with each other, effortlessly stepping in the same place and dodging the same branch. When a rustling of leaves was out of rhythm with the rest of the forest they all turned their heads and reacted as one. They didn’t have to talk it over, they didn’t even have to look at each other, they moved as a single organism towards the sound. As they got closer, the hissing and clotted grunting of a single walker could be heard as it slowly shuffled along.

Mel caught sight of the thing first and stood erect to face it head on. Daryl and Rick took notice and each backed up against a tree on either side of her. “Hey!”, Mel called out to catch its attention. “Come on you son of a bitch.” She cursed under her breath as its deflated rotting eyes locked onto its target. It started its frantic shamble towards her with its arms stretched out ready to embrace her. The rotting corpse walked right past the two men. As soon as it passed between them, Rick rushed out from behind his tree and grabbed the walker while Daryl thrust his knife into the top of its head. After it slumped to the ground Rick knelt over it and started his examination. 

“What’s the hold up?” Daryl asked when he realized he was the only one continuing on their path.

“Skin under the fingernails.” Rick answered as if reporting to a fellow officer. “It fed recently. There’s flesh caught in its teeth.” He held the mouth open by pulling down on the bottom lip for them to see. 

“Yeah? What kind?” Daryl observed the bloody mess in its mouth with disgusted contempt. 

“Only one way to find out.” Rick said, tearing open its dirty button-down shirt. He grabbed for his knife and raised it above the thing’s swollen purple torso ready to cut it open but hesitated.

“Here.” Daryl stopped him. “Let me do it.”

Mel stepped forward. “I’m gonna keep going.” She said rapidly then turned to leave. 

“Wait!” Daryl called out. Mel turned to him but he said nothing. She shrugged and shook her head as if to ask what his deal was. He searched for something to say that would make her stay. “It’s goin’ to be night soon.” 

“Yeah, it’s going to be night for Sophia too.” Mel said matter of fact. 

Mel glanced at the dead walker at Rick’s feet, then to Rick who quickly averted his eyes, then back to Daryl. She sighed deeply. “Look, I’m just gonna keep going this way.” She pivoted to point behind her. “When you’re done, you can catch up.” She gave them one last look then turned to leave. 

Some unknown impulse made Daryl reach out and catch her hand. Mel’s head whipped back to look at him surprise. Daryl swallowed hard trying to mask his embarrassment. Rather than retreat like he normally would, he owned it and held her with confidence. She looked from him to their hands and back to him, still frozen with surprise. A single ray of retreating light from the setting sun landed on her face just then, right on her magnificent eyes. Still holding tight, Daryl drew in a sudden sharp breath. Her face glowed and her eyes sparkled with an intense vibrancy he had not seen before. They were like stained glass murals in a cathedral. Just when he thought she couldn’t get more beautiful, she smiled. 

“I’ll be fine.” Mel told him with earnest. “I’ll just be pissin’ and killin’ walkers.” She laughed. 

At the mercy of her natural charm, Daryl smiled with her and offered no resistance when she pulled her hand from his. He watched Mel walk up a hill until she reached its crest and a patch of dense vegetation swallowed her. After she was gone Daryl continued to stand in place, staring at the spot in the bushes where she disappeared. His focus was fractured by a distracted cough from Rick clearing his throat impatiently. Daryl looked at him with a lofty and dazed expression that was quickly sobered by the dead walker patiently waiting to be gutted. He looked back at the point in the bushes one last time then went over to the walker and drove his knife into its soft belly.


	3. Chapter 3

Dissecting the bloated walker resulted in nothing but the mangled remnants of a woodchuck. It was a difficult and repulsive procedure but it gave Rick and Daryl peace of mind that Sophia had not been eaten, at least not by that one. They washed up at a nearby stream and continued in the same direction that Mel had gone just moments ago. 

Time passed, sucking precious light from the forest. Within the hour, night had dug its roots deep into the evening and they still had no sign of Mel or Sophia. 

“I can’t see anything. We should head back.” Rick finally spoke up after tripping several times. 

“We ain’t caught up to Mel yet.” Daryl pointed out without slowing his pace. He had better night vision than Rick but the lack of moonlight penetrating the dense forest was testing his limits. 

“Daryl, this is gettin’ dangerous.” Rick complained.

Daryl rounded on him. Rick could barely see but he could tell Daryl was on edge. “So now you want to leave them both?” 

Rick put his hands up in surrender, Daryl backed off with a heavy sigh. Under his breath, he said, “I shouldn’t have let her leave.”

“She doesn’t need permission.” Rick said like a child repeating an overheard phrase.

Daryl rounded on him again, this time with raw anger. “Did I fuckin’ say I was…” 

“All I meant was that she can take care of herself.” Rick stepped forward and put his hands up to meet Daryl’s shoulders in defense.

Daryl backed down but was still fuming. He started on the path again but tripped over a decaying log hidden by the darkness. Daryl cursed loudly and kicked at it relentlessly. Rick stood back in silence, patiently waiting until he was finished his assault on the log. 

By the end of his fit, Daryl was breathing heavy but seemed to have come to terms with the situation. He called out for Mel but was betrayed by his voice, cracked by emotion. Daryl glanced at Rick, even in the darkness he could see that he too was disturbed by adding her name to Sophia's.

“We’re exhausted, we can’t see,” Rick spoke calmly, “We will only be making things worse if we continue like this. Let’s go back, rest, gather supplies, and keep looking tomorrow.” Rick said, sounding as if he was talking to himself. 

Neither spoke for a while, letting the imprint of Rick’s voice linger in the silence like an afterimage. Eventually, Daryl spoke, “This way leads back to the road. It’d be easier than goin’ the way we came.” He said in a defeated tone.

Carefully, Rick and Daryl walked through the viscous darkness toward the road. After several minutes they emerged onto the pavement. The visibility was significantly better out in the open which allowed them to walk with more confidence. Secretly, Daryl hoped that Mel had the same idea and they would meet her on the road. He was hopeful still that Sophia would be with her. With each step he took the hope seemed to fade until they arrived at the RV and he felt empty.

More bouts of crying spouted from Carol when Rick and Daryl returned. Lori stood beside her, rubbing her back with one hand and holding onto her hand with the other. The rest of the group regarded them with a critical eye seeing they were another person short. Rick called the group’s attention as soon as he caught his breath. 

“We followed her trail until nightfall.” Rick spoke aloud. The group naturally gravitated toward him in a semicircle. “We could barely see our hands in front of our faces so we decided it would be best to head back.” 

Carol let out a loud sob. Lori hugged her tightly and hushed her gently. Rick composed himself and added, “Mel chose to keep looking throughout the night. We will pick up the search again tomorrow at dawn.” Rick announced. The mention of Mel continuing the search didn’t have the desired effect he was hoping for. 

“Mel isn’t a tracker. What if she gets lost too?” Andrea pointed out.

“She knows what she’s doin’.” Daryl said defensively, sensing the accusation in her voice.

“You can’t leave my baby out there on her own to spend the night in the woods!” Carol cried frantically. 

Rick walked over to her and put a warm hand on her arm as she held her face against Lori’s shoulder. “Mel had several chances to leave the search but she didn’t. She told me she would never stop ‘til she found Sophia.” Rick said with all the bedside manner he could muster. “You know just as well as I do that Mel is one of the toughest in our group. I wouldn’t have come back if she wasn’t out there right now looking.” 

Carol’s sobs slowed to a trickle. She lifted her head to look at him. Her face was beat red with puffy eyes, swollen from her relentless bawling. For a moment it seemed as if she was about to smile but her expression changed when she glanced over at Daryl.

“Is that blood?” She whimpered. Her face screwed up into tight wrinkles and her eyes disappeared behind a new wave of tears.

Daryl looked down at himself with his flashlight. He had gotten messier than he thought while gutting that walker. Carol started hyperventilating at the sight of the dark red and brown gore smeared down his front. 

“We took down a walker.” Rick tried to explain but it just added fuel to the fire. 

“Walker? Oh God!” She cried and collapsed to her knees. Carol was light as a feather but Lori let her drag her down with her. 

“There was no sign it was ever anywhere near Sophia, okay?” Rick told her in a gentle tone. 

“How can you know that?” Andrea asked with disbelief. 

Rick searched for the words to explain what he and Daryl had done. After a moment Daryl spoke for him, “We cut the son of a bitch open, made sure.” 

Glenn made a retching sound to signify his disgust at the thought. Andrea looked as if she was sorry she had asked. Carol continued with her episode, now on the verge of passing out. 

“Oh God!” Carol gasped. “How could you just leave her out there to begin with? How could you just leave her?” She whispered with exhaustion. 

“Those walkers were on us. I had to draw them off. It was her best chance.” Rick defended himself. There was less compassion in his voice now.

“Sounds like he didn’t have a choice, Carol.” Shane added, hoping to calm her down so he didn’t have to listen to her anymore.

“What if Mel doesn’t find her? How is she supposed to find her way back on her own? She’s just a child. She’s just a child.” Carol cried, finding more tears tucked away in her sorrow. 

Rick could sense the accusation in the air. He felt everyone’s eyes burrowing into him like ticks, making his skin crawl. He stood and rubbed his face. “It was my only option. The only choice I could make.” Rick said with agitation. When no one had anything more to say, he left the group and walked to his car to set up for the night. The others followed suit without further discussion.

Rest was scarce that night. Between Carol’s endless sobbing and the fear of another horde sneaking up on them, they all remained on the edge of sleep. The only thing that took them all by surprise was the rising sun. By the first light of dawn, Daryl had already prepared a set of supplies for the day’s search. Food, water, weapons, and flashlights were all laid out on the tailgate of a nearby truck. He sat on the side of the truck bed with his knee bouncing impatiently as the others were slowly getting up.

Everyone, save for T-Dog and Dale, gathered around the truck while Daryl explained the plan. “We need to spread out. Go up one side of the creek then come back on the other. That’s Sophia’s only landmark so she’ll pro’ly come back to it and stay there.”

“Last I remember, Sophia’s tracks led away from the creek.” Shane commented doubtfully. 

Rick stepped in, “We know she was heading back. Me and Daryl couldn’t go the way we came last night because of how dark it was, so there’s a chance she walked back to the creek after dark.” 

“I don’t know, man.” Shane sighed doubtfully.

“She’s a kid, not stupid.” Daryl added then jumped down out of the truck with a thud.

While everyone got ready for the day’s mission, Rick pulled Daryl away from the group and lowered his voice. “What if Sophia did go back to the creek? Mel went in the opposite direction.” He said with concern. 

“Yeah, so?” Daryl grunted with a shrug.

“She said she wouldn’t come back unless she found her. What happens if we find Sophia first?” 

“What, ya don’t think she’ll come back?” He asked. In response to the concern in Rick’s eyes, he added, “She came back every day from searchin’ for that doctor of hers in the city. My guess is she’ll do the same now. Turn up mid-day or somethin’, see if we found her or not.”

“You sure about that?” Rick asked him, his voice thick and intense.

Daryl hesitated before nodding his head. Rick squeezed his shoulder then left to join the others. Doubt lingered in the back of Daryl’s mind as he took a moment to look out over the river of abandon cars and reflect on his thoughts. Thinking about their current situation made his stomach sour. He pushed the negative thoughts away with a deep sigh. Worrying about Mel and Sophia wasn’t helping anything. They needed to focus on finding the little girl. Then, if Mel doesn’t turn up for some reason they can go look for her. It was a solid plan and with the bad thoughts locked tightly away, Daryl found renewed confidence for today’s search. 

Rick addressed everyone as they gathered for instructions. “Alright, does everybody have a weapon?” He asked loudly.

“These aren’t the kind of weapons we need. What about guns?” Andrea complained. 

“We’ve been over that.” Shane drawled, “Daryl, Rick, and I are carrying. We can’t have people poppin’ off rounds every time a tree rustles.” He chuckled.

“It’s not the trees I’m worried about.” She said with sarcasm. 

“Say somebody fires at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by. Then it’s game over for all of us. So you need to get over it, sweetheart.” Shan spat. 

Andrea glared at him. She picked up a bat with the condescending attitude of a teenager then stormed off. 

“Let’s stay quiet and stay sharp.” Rick announced. “Keep space between each other but always within eyesight just like before. Let’s go.” 

He adjusted his deputy hat then grabbed his gun and backpack of supplies. Before following everyone down the ridge, he walked over to Dale at the RV. 

“Dale, keep on those repairs. We’ve got to get this RV ready to move.”

“We won’t stay here a minute longer than we have to.” Dale assured him. “Good luck out there. Bring Sophia back.” 

Rick nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. As he turned to walked off he added, “Please keep an eye on Carl while we’re gone.” 

“I’m going with you.” Carl piped up. “You need people right? To cover as much ground as possible.” 

Rick looked from Carl to Lori. “Your call.” Lori said, putting her hands up. “I can’t always be the bad guy.”

“Well, he has all of you to look after him.” Dale commented. “I’d say he’s in good hands.”

Carl looked up at him expectantly. Ultimately, he couldn’t resist his son’s innocent face, so young yet so serious. “Okay, okay. But always within our sight, no exceptions.” He finally he said. Carl beamed with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Daryl observed the father and son pair as they walked into the woods. He didn’t think it was a good idea having Carl with them. He had nothing against the boy, but Rick had already lost one kid already.

As they walked, the crisp morning air invigorated Daryl’s tired body and filled him with renewed optimism. He felt good about today. They were going to find that little girl. Then, depending on how long it takes Mel to get back, they could be heading toward Fort Benning as early as tomorrow morning. 

The group searched for miles on end with no luck. Carol was starting to spiral once more into hysterics when Daryl pointed out what looked like a small camp. Unnatural colors and shapes stood out against the dense shades of green in the spaces between the foliage. As they got closer, a blue tent appeared surrounded by trash and typical camping gear. From the looks of it, the person had been here a long time. The small campfire was overflowing with the ash from countless burnt sticks and logs, empty snack wrappers were littered everywhere like the ground at a county fair after a long weekend, and the forest floor surrounding the tent was matted from daily activity. 

Daryl bent down to test the heat in the fire pit. It was lifeless and cold, a clear sign no one had been here recently. At least, no one who knew how to build a fire. He doubted Sophia knew how to start one from scratch and the idea that she might be sleeping inside the tent ran through his mind. Daryl approached the door with apprehension, his knife raised in case he was wrong about who or what was inside. 

“Wait.” Rick whispered. 

Daryl looked back to see Rick wave Carol over. He heard him speak quietly to her, “If Sophia’s in there, it’s you’re voice she should hear fist.”

Carol called out for Sophia, quiet and sweet. When there was no response, Rick gave Daryl a nod. He carefully pulled zipper along its track, wincing as it buzzed open. When a large enough opening was made, Daryl silently slipped inside. The tent was empty save for a single lawn chair occupied by a corpse. Flies danced around the gaping hole in the back of its head and maggots feasted on the soupy grey matter. Daryl crept carefully around the side of the unmoving body, not trusting it was really dead. 

He got a better view of the thing from the front. It looked like it had been a guy about the same age as his brother, wearing a long-sleeved plaid shirt and blue jeans. The shirt was mostly white with stripes in different shades of red but had a large stain of dark green and brown around the gut from weeks of rot. The skin on the guy’s face was black with decay and drawn tight against his skull. The eyes had melted into a wet jelly and now was nothing more than two writhing pools of maggots. The mouth hung open as if surprised to see Daryl. Behind the bright white teeth that protruded past the shriveled lips was a large raisin-like mass that Daryl realized had once been the tongue. 

He looked down to see what he had been hoping to find. A revolver still clutched in the stiff dead hands of its owner. Daryl gagged against the pungent stench of the corpse has he leaned in to snatch the gun. Its fingers wrapped tightly around the handle like thick black vines, refusing to give up the weapon. Carol called out again, this time for Daryl, her voice thick with worry. He heard footsteps approaching the tent just as the gun came free. Daryl quickly stuffed the piece in the back of his pants and pulled his shirt over it before stepping out. 

“It ain’t her.” He said solemnly. 

Carol looked as if she wanted to colapse into another bout of sobbing but didn’t, or couldn’t’. “What’s in there?” 

“Some guy. Did what Jenner said, opted out. Ain’t that what he called it?” Daryl asked.

No one wanted to answer. The first dead end had already infected them with defeat. Their silence was shattered with a sudden and unexpected sound echoed through the trees. Everyone looked around with wide eyes and listened, each experiencing the same doubt of sanity before realizing the others heard it too. 

“Are those fuckin’ church bells?” Daryl thought aloud. 

“What direction?” Shane asked, twirling around in an attempt to pinpoint their origin. 

Rick pointed off to the left. “That way. I’m pretty sure.” 

“Damn. It’s hard to tell out here.” Shane added as the echo continued to dance through the trees.

“If we heard them. Maybe Sophia did too.” Carol pointed out, hopeful. She was gripping Lori who seemed to keep a consoling arm around her shoulders at all times.

“Someone’s ringing those bells. Maybe calling others.” Glenn added.

“Or someone signaling they found her.” Andrea suggested.

“Could be Mel.” Daryl said, already heading toward the sound.

“Or Sophia could be ringing them herself. Come on!” Rick shouted and signaled the others to follow as the last of the echoes died out.

They charged through the woods until they arrived at a clearing. A mote of cut grass and tombstones surrounded a small white building. It was a quaint one hall church that had been built onto to accommodate more worshipers and community events. It had a small set of shallow stairs leading up to its red double doors and a patch of dirt for the parking lot. The crisp white sign read “Southern Baptist Church” in clear black font accompanied by a less professional sign that flapped in the wind announcing “Bikers Welcome”.

“This can’t be right. It has no steeple.” Lori said with confusion as they approached its front. 

They spread out and scoured the area. Daryl, Rick, and Shane entered the building expecting to find someone ringing the bells. What they found were decayed worshipers, still dressed in their Sunday best. Adorned with dust and cobwebs, the mummified corpses hissed and groaned to life, turning slowly to look at the newcomers. Daryl could hear their dry skin crack and their stiff joints creak as they forced their dehydrated bodies to move for the first time since dying. Without any stimulation, they seemed to have gone into a type of hibernation. Like a robot in stand-by. Rick, Shane, and Daryl ended them quickly without thought. 

“Hey, J.C. Ya takin’ requests?” Daryl said sarcastically to the fiberglass statue of Jesus on the cross behind the altar. 

“Rick, this can’t be the right church. There’s no bells.” Lori repeated. Just then the bells started up again. Rick gave her a look of impatience then ran outside. He found a set of loudspeakers at one of the building’s corners and followed the wires around to the side where they ran down into a metal box. Glenn opened it and ripped out the wires, abruptly cutting off the sound of the bells.

“Timer. It’s on a fuckin’ timer.” Daryl said breathlessly, having ran out with the others. He was annoyed by the idea that such a small church in the middle of nowhere could have the need or the funds to get electronic bells. 

“I’m going to go back inside for a bit.” Carol said flatly, then retreated inside the church.

With nothing more to do, Daryl followed her and stood inside with a few others. As they listened to Carol’s prayers, he thought over his own. Daryl was never a religious person but now was a good time to start as any. If it meant anything to the big guy upstairs, he could really use the help. That little girl didn't deserve to die alone in the woods and Mel… Well, he had confidence in Mel, he needed to, but it was wearing thin the longer she was gone. 

His agitation about Sophia having gone missing resurfaced. He could feel himself become restless as his blood pressure rose. They didn’t need to be in here begging some statue for help. They needed to be back out there looking. Daryl abruptly left the church followed by Glenn, Lori, and Carl who all thought he looked like he knew what to do. They gathered outside under a nearby tree, joined by Carol moments later. They all listened intently as Daryl told them his plan which really were just his thoughts spoken out loud. 

“We need to keep moving. There’s no sign that anyone was here.” Daryl explained. “We should head back to the creek.” 

“But it’s past noon now. If we keep going we might not make it back before dark.” Glenn pointed out. 

“You want Sophia to spend another night in the woods?” Daryl complained. 

Glenn looked at his feet with embarrassment. “No. I just don’t want anyone else getting lost.”

Daryl felt heat rise in his face. “Ain’t no one else gettin’ lost.” He snapped. In response to everyone’s silence, he lowered his voice and added, “We just need to keep lookin’ is all.” 

Carol put a gentile hand on Daryl’s shoulder. He looked from her hand to her face, surprised by the gesture. Shane marched over to them after having just spoken to Rick. “Y’all gonna follow the creek bed back, okay? Daryl, you’re in charge.” Shane announced. The group exchanged uneasy looks. “Me and Rick, we’re just goin’ to hang back, search this area another hour or so just to be thorough.” 

“Y’re splittin’ us up?” Daryl asked doubtfully.

“Yeah. We’ll catch up to you.” Shane assured him.

“Like I haven’t heard that before.” Daryl muttered under his breath. He shot an eye at Rick who caught his meaning and looked away. 

“I want to stay too.” Carl said, breaking away from his mom and looking at his dad with eager eyes. “I’m her friend.” 

Lori stepped toward him and stroked his dark brown hair. “Just be careful, okay?” 

Carl swelled with happiness. “I will!” 

Lori bent down and squeezed him tight. “When did you start growing up?” She said and kissed him on the head before letting him join Rick’s side.

“I’ll be along soon enough. Here, take this.” Rick took out his gun and held it out for her. “Remember how to use it?” 

Lori stepped back. “I’m not taking your gun and leaving you unarmed.”

Daryl didn’t have time for this. He dug out the revolver he found in the tent and handed it to her. “Here, got a spare.” 

Thankfully that settled the matter and they were able to get moving. Daryl started walking through the graveyard, followed by Lori, Carol, Glenn, and Andrea. He walked with anticipation, wanting to make sure Mel had returned to the RV or at the very least had come back to check in. If not, then hopefully it would still be light enough so he could get back out and keep looking. He appreciated the trust everyone put in him to take their people back but splitting them up again was a mistake. He just hoped they wouldn’t be paying for it.

“So this is it? This is the whole plan?” Carol had stopped suddenly and sat on a felled tree. The rest of the group stopped to rest with her.

“I guess the plan is to whittle us down into smaller and smaller groups.” Daryl said. “Seems to be the only thin’ we’ve been doin’.” He leaned his back against a nearby tree.

“Yeah, and carrying around knives and pointy sticks.” Andrea scoffed then shot an accusing eye at Lori who stood to the challenge “But I see you have a gun.” Andrea added, turning to face her with a hand on her hip.

“Why, you want it?” Lori asked bluntly. She quickly retrieved the gun from the back of her pants and held it out for Andrea. “Here, take it. I’m sick of the looks you’re giving me.” She knelt down to her bag of supplies after Andrea took the gun and added, “All of you.”

Daryl watched the guilty eyes of the group drop to the ground almost simultaneously. He knew exactly what she meant and had felt some of those same judgmental looks being passed over him a time or two. 

Lori found what she was looking for and addressed Carol directly. “Honey, I can’t imagine what you’re going through. And I would do anything to stop it. But you have got to stop blaming Rick. It’s in your face every time you look at him.” 

There it is, Daryl thought and folded his arms across his chest. 

“When Sophia ran,” Lori continued, “Rick didn’t hesitate, did he? Not for a second. I don’t know that any of us would have gone after her the way he did or made the hard decisions he had to make. Anybody?” 

A memory of Mel flashed before Daryl’s mind involuntarily. Mel was the first to run into the woods when Rick came back empty-handed. She did so without any prompt, only the intuition and ability to read the situation in an instant. He also thought about how she risked her life to save his brother. She was willing to clean up Rick’s mess after he handcuffed Merel to some roof because, to her, it was the right thing to do. Without realizing it, another memory was conjured; Mel disappearing over the ridge before he and Rick opened up that walker. His stomach churned uneasily. 

He wanted to answer Lori’s challenge, tell her that Rick wasn’t the only one to make hard decisions. He also wanted to tell the rest of the group to go to hell for acting like this was a big inconvenience to them. His throat moved to talk but he stopped before any sound was made.

“Y’all blame him when he’s not perfect.” Lori continued her rant. “If you think you can do this without him, go right ahead. Nobody is stopping you.” Her speech had reached its final climax which she abruptly ended like a brisk slap on everyone’s face. 

Again, Daryl choked back his words. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “We should keep goin’.” He announced, then moved on without waiting for the others to follow.

They made it across the creek bed in a shallow section and continued toward the highway. A few miles into their hike, a far off gunshot echoed through the trees. Everyone stopped to listen and attempt to locate its origin but quickly gave up and kept moving. 

The weight of disappointment seemed to bring everyone down but Daryl. He found himself waiting for the others to catch up more than he was walking. To him, everyone was doing more complaining than anything. Morale was low, he could hear it in their voices, but he wasn’t going to let that get to him. 

“You still worrying about it?” Andrea asked Lori who had been distracted since they heard the gunshot. 

“Why one? Why just one gunshot?” She asked, her voice on edge. 

“Maybe they took down a walker.” Daryl said nonchalantly. He stood with one foot on a stump as everyone slowed to a stop.

“Please don’t patronize me.” Lori snapped. “You know Rick wouldn’t risk a gunshot to put down one walker. Or Shane. They’d do it quietly.”

“Shouldn’t they have caught up with us by now?” Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged. “Nothin’ we can do ‘bout it anyway. Can’t run ‘round these woods chasin’ echos.” 

“So what do we do?” Lori asked forcefully. She raised her hands out to her sides and clapped them against her thighs as they fell. 

“Same as we’ve been.” Daryl answered with a condescending tone. “Beat the bush for Sophia, work our way back to the highway.”

“I’m sure they’ll hook up with us back at the RV.” Andrea commented. 

They started to move again but Carol remained where she was. She let out a shaky sigh and rubbed her face. Andrea came up beside her and put a hand on her back. Carol looked up at her and smiled politely. They walked together at the back of the group.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through.” Andrea said earnestly. “I know how you feel.”

“I suppose you do. Thank you.” Carol managed a smile. “The thought of her, out here by herself. It’s the not knowing that’s killing me. I just keep hoping and praying she doesn’t wind up like Amy.” Carol gasped and froze in her tracks, startled by her own words. “Oh, God! That’s the worst thing I’ve ever said.” She looked at Andrea apologetically with tears wetting her eyes. 

Andrea took a moment to compose herself. “We’re all hoping and praying with you, for what it’s worth.” She tried to sound forgiving.

Daryl couldn’t stand it anymore. He held his tongue long enough. These people needed to hear it straight and simple. “I’ll tell ya what it’s worth. Not a damn thing! It’s a waste of time, all this hopin’ and prayin’. We’re gonna find that little girl. She’s gonna be just fine.” No one said anything so he added, “Am I the only one zen around here? Fuck sake.” 

At that, he turned and walked away, continuing the path back to the road. If they didn't want to follow him, that was their problem. Ultimately, they trickled behind him without protest, as he suspected they would. After a while they went back to their usual bickering and complaining. It took everything Daryl had to ignore them and focus on the trail ahead.

“How much farther?” Asked Carol.

“Not much. Maybe a hundred yards as the crow flies.” Daryl guessed.

“Yeah, too bad we're not crows.” She joked. 

“As the crow flies my ass.” Andrea complained at the back of the group. She was battling with a tangle of spider webs when suddenly a walker appeared from behind a nearby tree. The corpse was in the advanced stages of rot with maggots bulging from large sores on its face. They fell out in clumps and exploded like rice onto the forest floor as it grappled with her. The thing opened its mouth revealing dirty, blood-stained teeth that snapped inches from her face. Andrea made the mistake of looking into its white glassy eyes that bulged unblinking out of their sockets. Maggots wriggled at the corners of its eyelids, falling like tears.

Andrea screamed as loud as she could but the group’s reaction time was slow. Just as they had turned to see Andrea being attacked, Daryl already had its head in his sights. Before he could take the shot something caught his eye. In a flash, a chocolate brown horse charged through the trees. Riding it was a young woman with short brown hair and cowboy boots wielding a wooden baseball bat. She struck the walker’s head, which erupted into a spray of brains and maggots all over Andrea. She frantically brushed her hands all over her body to get them off of her before they made their way under her clothes.

Everyone, including Daryl, stared at her in shock. There was urgency in her face that commanded their attention. 

“Lori?” The stranger asked.

“I’m Lori.” She stepped forward.

“Rick sent me. You’ve got to come now.” The stranger’s voice was as insistent as her face.

“What?” Lori stammered.

“There’s been an accident. Carl’s been shot. He’s still alive but you’ve got to come now. Rick needs you.” She urged her.

Lori looked as if the woman was speaking another language. All she could do was put her hands to her face.

“Just come!” The stranger yelled. Lori obeyed and took her hand to mount the horse.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Daryl shouted. “We don’t know this bitch. You can’t just ride off with some stranger!”

“Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl?” The strange woman asked. Glenn nodded, answering for everyone. “Backtrack to Fairburn road. Two miles down is our farm. You’ll see the mailbox. Name’s Greene.”

And just like that, the strange woman rode off in a blur with Lori. It all happened so fast that everyone needed a moment to let it sink in. Daryl snapped out of it first and corralled the group back into motion. If only they had this much motivation in the first place they might have gotten somewhere.


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl dodged through the trees and jumped over logs as he ran through the woods. His mind was reeling from the encounter with that mysterious girl on her horse who whisked Loir away. Andrea, Glenn, and Carol ran in line behind him, although at a much slower pace. He glanced back on occasions to make sure they were still within sight. They needed to get back to the road so they could tell Dale and T-dog what had happened and plan what to do next. 

Taking longer than he had hoped, the four of them trickled out of the forest. Daryl called for Dale while he helped Carol up the steep incline to the road. Dale greeted them but the smile on his face quickly faded when Glenn told him what happened.

“Shot? What do you mean shot?” Dale asked as Glenn, Daryl, and Andrea quickly gathered their things..

“I don’t know, Dale. I wasn’t there.” Glenn explained. “All I know is this hot chick came out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori.” 

Dale turned to Daryl in shock. “And you let her!?”

“Climb out of my asshole, man.” Daryl growled in defense. “I told her not to go but she ain’t listen. Chick knew Lori and Carl’s names. Said Rick sent her.” 

“I heard screams. Was that you?” Dale asked Andrea. She rolled her eyes and walked away without answering. 

“She got attacked by a walker. It was a close call.” Glenn told him.

“Andrea? Are you alright?” Dale continued to ask. She turned and gave him an annoyed look then went inside the RV, slamming the door in his face. He turned around to look at the others. “Did I say something wrong?” He asked with his hand up in confused frustration.

Carol and Glenn refused to answer. Daryl felt like the only one with his head on straight. They needed to find that farm, not sit around here with their thumbs up their asses. “Did Mel come back?” He asked, changing the subject.

“No. We hadn’t seen anyone all day.” Dale explained. “I fixed the RV then T-dog broke out into a fever. I got him laying down inside.” 

Daryl’s stomach churned. Mel should have been back by now. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t deal with that now. “That chick told us where to find her farm. We need to get movin’.”

“I’ll drive the wagon.” Glenn announced.

Dale sighed and made his way to the driver's side of the RV. Daryl started walking back to his bike when Carol’s voice stopped them all in their tracks.

“You can’t be serious?” She said loudly and with anger. “We can’t just leave.”

The unexpected tone of her voice took the men by surprise. They each whipped their heads around but one by one let their eyes fall under her expectant glare. 

Dale was the first to break the silence. “Carol, the group is split. We’re scattered and weak.” He reasoned.

“What if Sophia comes back and we’re not here?” She whimpered in her usual tone. “It could happen.” Carol squeaked.

The door to the RV opened and Andrea came out hesitantly. “I could hear you from inside.” She said almost apologetically. “If Sophia found her way back and we were gone, that would be awful.” 

“Mel’s still gone. You want to leave without her too?” Carol accused them.

“Mel’s probably with her. She’ll be fine.” Daryl spat.

“But how will they know where to find us?” Carol asked, close to tears.

“Okay. We’ve gotta plan for this.” Daryl stepped forward. “I say tomorrow mornin’ is soon enough to pull up stakes. Gives us a chance to rig up a big sign, leave them some supplies. I’ll hold here tonight, stay with the RV.”

“If the RV is staying, I am too.” Dale interrupted.

“Thank you. Thank you both.” Carol said, clutching her hands to her chest.

Glenn stepped forward, “Well if you are all staying, then I’m…”

“Not you, Glenn. You’re going. Take the station wagon.” Dale interrupted him, letting the air out of the young man.

“Me? Why does it always have to be me?” He complained.

“You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people and see what’s going on.” Dale explained. “But most importantly, you have to get T-Dog there. That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. He’s become delirious. You need to get him to the farm and see if they have any antibiotics. Because if not, T-Dog WILL die, no joke.” 

Daryl thought a moment about what Dale was saying. He walked over to the bike and pulled out a large zip lock bag from one of the side saddles. In the process, he yanked off an oil covered t-shirt scrap from the handlebars and walked back to the group. 

“Keep yer oily rags off my brother’s bike.” He threw the rag at Dale with a light ‘thwack’, then sat the ziploc bag down on the hood of a car to search through it. “Why’d ya wait ‘til now to say anythin’? Got my brother’s stash.” He listed off its contents as he searched. “Crystal, x, don’t need that. Got some kick ass painkillers.” Daryl pulled out a small orange bottle and threw it to Glenn. “Doxycycline. Not the generic shit neither. That’s first class. Merle got the clap on occasion.” He added with a smirk then went to return the bag to the motorcycle. 

They helped Glenn back the station wagon out of the traffic and sent both him and T-Dog on their way. The rest of the evening was spent working on a sign for Sophia and Mel. Carol found a bar of soap in one of the cars and gave it to Dale who wrote on the windshield of a nearby car. On its hood, they gathered several cans of food with easy-open lids, bottles of water, and a few granola bars. 

Night seemed to sneak up on them as unexpectedly as the walker horde. They all piled into the RV and did their best to relax and gather their strength for the next day. Daryl picked a spot on the floor in the hallway, Carol laid down in the bed, Andrea went back to cleaning her gun at the table, and Dale made himself comfortable on the roof as a lookout. 

Daryl closed his eyes and tried to doze off but it wouldn’t come. His mind ran wild with scenes of regret and missed opportunities. Moments in his life he wished he had the courage to do something different. Between that and Carol’s constant crying, he knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep. Instead, he decided to gear up. 

“I’m gonna need my clip back.” He said to Andrea who was now cleaning any gun she could get her hands on. “I’m gonna walk the road, look for the girl.”

There was a break in Carol’s crying as she looked up from her pillow. Daryl noticed the pause and glanced down the hall into the bedroom to find Carol looking at him. She didn’t speak but through her bloodshot eyes, the tears that blurred her eyes, and her runny red nose, Daryl knew what she wanted to say. He nodded to her then left, Andrea not too far behind. She grabbed her own flashlight and a knife without asking Daryl if he wanted the company. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m goin’ for a walk.” Daryl told Dale who was standing on the roof. “Shine some light in the forest. If she’s out there, give her something to look at.” 

“Do you think that’s a good idea right now?” Dale asked. 

Daryl wasn’t sure if Dale was asking him or Andrea. She seemed to think it was for her because she gave him an attitude before walking off. Daryl looked at Dale with reassurance in his face then turned and followed her. They walked the road until the river of cars abruptly ended at the ambulance. Daryl took a moment to scavenge the few medical supplies that were left then decided to try the woods. 

“You really think we’re going to find them?” Andrea asked out of nowhere. 

Daryl was taken by surprise. He would have bet money that she was on his side of the argument but it turned out she had doubts just like the rest of them. Daryl shined the light at her just to make sure he heard her right. “Ya got that look on your face, same as everybody else. What the hell is wrong with you people? We just started lookin’.”

“Well do you?” She insisted.

“It ain’t the mountains of Tibet. It’s fuckin’ Georgia. She could be held up in a farmhouse somewhere. People get lost and they survive. It happens all the time.”

“Are you talking about Mel or Sophia?”

“Does it matter? B’sides, Mel ain’t lost. She survived Atlanta every day for weeks. She can take care of herself.”

“And Sophia? She’s only twelve.” 

“Hell, I was younger than her and I got lost. Nine days in the woods eating berries, wiping my ass with poison oak.”

“They found you?”

“Naw. My old man was off on a bender with some waitress. Merle was doin’ another stent in juvie. Didn’t even know I was gone. Made my way back though. Went straight into the kitchen and made myself a damn sandwich. No worse for wear. Except my ass itched somethin’ awful.”

Andrea laughed out loud. In response to Daryl’s sideways glance, she added, “I’m sorry. That was a terrible story.” Then as an afterthought, “I see why Mel likes you so much.”

Daryl blushed and laughed with her. “Well, the only difference is Sophia’s got people lookin’ for her. I call that an advantage.”

Suddenly a rustling came out of the dark a few feet to their right. They quickly shined their lights in the same direction, Daryl with his crossbow at the ready. Slowly they stalked toward the sound coming from behind the bushes. Out of the dark, a small camp, not unlike the one they had found that morning, manifested itself in their light. The ground was littered with empty beer cans and food wrappers. The tent wasn’t as flashy but looked more expensive, the type only serious outdoorsmen would buy; a large square tie-down in military tan. As they cautiously entered the camp, it didn’t take long to discover the source of the sound. 

“What the fuck?” Daryl cursed.

Andrea followed his light until it landed on a fresh corpse hanging from a noose in a near-by tree. It was a guy not much older than Daryl, so far as they could tell by its purple face and bulging eyes. Daryl looked it over as it jerked itself about in an attempt to grab at them. It wore a plaid shirt with a brown vest and blue jeans that ended at the knees in bloody shreds. Below the knee, its legs were nothing but bare bone, red with wet tender bits of meat. The feet were gone completely. Only strings of tendon hung from the ankles wiggling like limp spaghetti noodles. Once the camper took his final jump, his legs must have been just at the right height to be feasted on by other walkers. Daryl wondered if the guy was still alive while he was getting gnawed on or if the dude had done it right and made it a quick trip out of here. 

Daryl noticed a note tacked to the same tree. He read it aloud, “Got bit. Fever hit. World gone to shit, so might as well quit.” Daryl scoffed. “Dumbass didn’t know enough to shoot himself in the head. Turned himself into a big swinging piece of bait.” Daryl said with contempt. 

Andrea groaned and bent over.

“Ya okay?” Daryl asked. He hadn’t noticed she stayed far back from the hanging corpse and her face had turned a pale yellow.

“Trying not to puke.” She gagged.

“Go ahead if you gotta.”

“No. I’m fine. Let’s just talk about something else for a minute. Where did you learn to shoot?”

“Gotta eat. That’s the one thing these walkers and us have in common.” Daryl answered while watching the swinging corpse grasp for him in vain. “Guess this the closest he’s been to food since he turned. Hangin’ up there like a big meat pinata. The other geeks came and ate all the flesh off his legs.”

At that, Andrea vomited. “I thought we were changing the subject.” She coughed.

“Call that payback for laughing about my itchy ass.” Daryl said sarcastically.

“At least not a lot came up.” 

“Well, let’s head back.”

Daryl turned to leave but Andrea didn’t move. He turned to see what the holdup was and found her looking at him with intense concern.

“Aren’t you gonna…” She gestured at the hanging corpse still swaying in the tree.

“Naw. He ain’t hurtin’ nobody. I ain’t gonna waste the arrow neither. He made his choice. Opted out.” Daryl looked at the walker one last time and added, “Let him hang.” then turned to leave.

Still, Andrea didn’t follow. Instead, she walked closer to the struggling corpse like a dare. It thrashed violently as she came within inches of the thing grasping desperately for her. Daryl wondered if she saw herself in that man. Since the CDC, Dale had essentially put her on suicide watch. 

“You want to live now or not?” Daryl asked. She turned and observed him. No doubt he hit right on the money. “It’s just a question.” He continued. 

“An answer for an arrow. Fair?”

Daryl shrugged so Andrea said, “I don’t know if I want to live, or if I have to, or if it’s just a habit.”

“That’s not much of an answer.” He said, raising his crossbow. Taking aim, Daryl sunk an arrow between the walker’s eyes and it went limp. “Waste of an arrow.” He added with a hint of disappointment then turned and kept walking.

They walked the rest of the way back in silence. Dale met them at the RV but Daryl didn’t feel like answering his obvious questions he always felt the need to ask. Instead, he just gave Dale a “don’t ask” look and went inside. He could hear him try to talk to Andrea outside. It sounded like he gave her a sincere apology for trying to control her which included taking her gun. Moments later Dale entered the RV looking defeated. He sat in the driver’s seat for a while then eventually put his hat over his face and went to sleep. 

Daryl went back to his spot on the floor. Carol finally fell asleep and the RV filled with light snoring. A few hours later it was echoed by Dale’s louder snoring, He wasn’t sure which was worse, the snoring or the crying. He figured things could have been worse and there could be both crying and snoring at the same time. Considering himself lucky, Daryl relaxed into the floor but the negative thoughts slowly seeped through the cracks in his mind once more. They poked fun at him until Andrea was waking him up. He must have fallen asleep and not realized it. Her shift was over and it was his turn to go on watch. He took his post and watched as the sky gradually lightened; black, deep purple, deep red, pink. He kept the thoughts at bay by sharpening his arrows. 

An hour after the sun came up the others woke so Daryl climbed down off the roof to meet them. They all seemed to be as exhausted as he was. With little to no words, they backed up the RV and commandeered another car to carry all the supplies they had scavenged. Exiting the traffic jam was easy enough. Within minutes they were on open road, Daryl leading the way toward the stranger’s farm hoping it wasn’t a trap.


	5. Chapter 5

The road came up quicker than Daryl had anticipated. So quick, in fact, that he had to jam the breaks and swing the motorcycle wide just to make the turn. Luckily, the RV and the extra car wasn’t too close behind and were able to follow without issue. The mailbox was easy to miss but the farmhouse could be seen for miles. It was like a big white ship sailing atop a golden sea of wheatgrass. They turned onto the narrow dirt driveway and followed it winding up to the traditional two-story farmhouse. Glenn and a few strangers were standing on the wrap around porch watching as they approached. Shortly after parking their vehicles, the others came out of the house. Lori and Rick looked worse than the lot of them combined. 

“How is he?” Dale asked, rushing out of the RV.

“He’ll pull through, thanks to Hershel and his people.” Lori answered.

“And Shane.” Rick added, as if in a daze. “We’d have almost lost Carl if not for him.”

Daryl took notice of Shane lurking off to the side. He had shaved his head since they last saw him and there was something behind his eyes that gave off an unsettling aura. Dale hugged Rick, Carol and Lori did the same followed by Andrea and T-Dog who was looking a lot better.

“Where’s Mel?” T asked.

“She hasn’t come back yet.” Andrea answered.

T-dog’s expression changed as sudden as the Georgia weather during rainy season; sunny with a chance of torrential downpours. Daryl knew what was coming so he averted his gazed just before T could lock eyes with him. Daryl observed the group and landed on Rick. He looked downright sickly, as if he had the flu or had lost too much blood. His skin was pale, dark circles lined his shallow eyes, and he looked to have trouble with his balance. Rick looked up at him and nodded, Daryl nodded in return.

He could still feel T-dog’s eyes on him. It was starting to piss him off so he prepared to bitch him out, but he wasn’t ready for the expression on T’s face. Daryl was better at reading emotions than he was talking about them, and T-dog had an entire novel in his eyes. They accused him of not being more concerned about Mel, for not finding her, for not being out there looking for her right now. It was too much for Daryl to bare so he quickly looked away.

“Thank God! We were so worried.” Carol exclaimed.

“How did it happen?” Asked Andrea.

“Hunting accident.” Rick answered with the same stupor in his voice, “That’s all. Just a stupid accident.”

A round of introductions were made for the newcomers. They were introduced to the owner of the farm, Hershel, a stone-faced old man hardened by a lifetime of hard work. He also happened to be a licensed veterinarian which is what saved Carl’s life. The strange woman who had whisked Lori away was his daughter, Maggie, pretty and light-eyed with short brown hair bleached from the sun. He had a second, younger daughter, Beth, who was a bright ray of sunshine and just as blond. Her boyfriend, Jimmy, was the tall, skinny, kind-faced boy standing behind her. Next to Beth was another blond woman Daryl thought to be the Mom. Her name was Patricia, their neighbor and lifelong friend, wife to a man named Otis, who’s name brought tears to her eyes.

Newly acquainted, Hershel and his family discussed having a funeral service for Patricia’s husband. From what Daryl gathered, this would be a burial marker rather than an actual grave. From the way everyone talked, it seemed that Otis had never come back from a run into town with Shane. No one explained the whole story yet, but he didn’t need to hear it to be suspicious.

Everyone pitched in to build a cairn for Otis. They gathered any large rocks they could find and loaded them in a wheelbarrow. Hershel chose a spot by the trees on his property and held a service. Not only was he a farmer and veterinarian, he also seemed to be a dedicated Christian, reciting prayers from a bible decorated in colorful sticky-notes. All were in attendance but Lori who was keeping watch over Carl who was still bedridden. Hershel read a prayer, his voice ever slow and careful, as the Greene family placed rocks on the pile.

“Shane, will you speak for Otis?” Hershel asked after his prayers were done.

Everyone looked at Shane expectantly. He shook his head and apologized, “I’m not good at it. I’m sorry.”

Otis’ wife, Patricia stifled her tears long enough to say, “You were the last one with him. You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear … I need to know his death had meaning.” She begged as her tears pinched off her voice.

Reluctantly, Shane agreed. “Okay. Well, as most of you know, we went to the local high school lookin’ for medicine for Carl. We were about done when things went south. Walkers just appeared out of nowhere. We fought them off as long as we could. Almost out of ammo; we were down to pistols by then.” The more he talked the easier it became. “At one point I fell, twisted my ankle.” He continued with enthusiasm. “I was limping pretty bad. Ankle all swollen up. ‘We’ve got to save the boy.’ See, that’s what he said. He gave me his backpack and shoved me ahead. ‘Run!’ He said, ‘I’ll cover you.’ And when I looked back…” Shane trailed off for dramatic effect. He even managed a few tears to deliver his next line. “If not for Otis, I’d have never made it out alive.”

As if that wasn’t enough, Shane limped forward to the wheelbarrow. He picked up two rocks and drove home his performance. “And that goes for Carl too. It was Otis. He saved us both.” Shane paused and turned to Patricia, “If any death ever had meaning, it was his.” 

Shane placed the two rocks on the cairn then limped back toward the house without another word. Daryl looked around to see if anyone had bought Shane’s bull shit. If they felt as doubtful as he did, they weren’t showing it. He wasn’t one to stir the pot so he kept his reservations to himself and followed everyone back to the house. 

It was there that he, Rick, Andrea, Shane, Hershel, and Maggie gathered around the hood of a farm truck. They brought Hershel and his oldest daughter up to speed on Sophia’s disappearance. Upon hearing the story, something sparked in Maggie’s eyes, as if remembering something, and she quickly went into the house.

“How long has this girl been gone?” Hershel asked in his drawn-out voice, like he needed to think about each word as he said it.

“This’ll be day three.” Answered Rick. He then turned to Daryl and asked, “Mel’s not back yet?” Daryl dropped his eyes and gave a small shake of his head. He didn’t want to see Rick’s reaction, or rather, he couldn’t. One more accusatory look from anyone and he was going to break something. Just then, Maggie appeared with a long tube of paper, letting him off the hook.

“County survey map.” She announced as she unrolled it onto the hood. “Shows terrain and elevations.” 

“This is perfect.” Rick exclaimed. “We can finally get this thing organized.” He said with enthusiasm as he weighed down the map’s corners with water bottles. “We’ll grid the whole area, start searching in teams.”

“Not you. Not today.” Hershel interrupted. “You gave three units of blood. You wouldn’t be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out.” He looked to Shane and added, “And your ankle. Push it now, you’ll be laid up a month, no good to anybody.”

Daryl was growing impatient. “Guess it’s just me.” He said, pointing to a spot the map. “I’m gonna head back to the creek, work my way from there.”

“I can still be useful.” Shane spoke up. He had put on his dark blue hat with big white letters that said ‘POLICE’ on the front, in case anyone forgot that he too was once an officer. “I’ll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia or Mel wandered back.”

Daryl shot him a dangerous glare. Just a few days ago, Shane had a gun to Mel’s head threatening to kill her. Now all of a sudden he wants to find her? Daryl wasn’t buying it.

“Alright, tomorrow then. We’ll start doing this right.” Rick agreed. 

“That means we can’t have our people out there with just knives.” Shane added. “They need the gun training we’ve been promising them.”

Hershel stood upright. “I’d prefer you not carrying guns on my property. We’ve managed so far without turning this into an armed camp.”

“All due respect,” Shane said with a hint of contempt, “you get a crowd of those things wandering here…”

“Look, we’re guests here.” Rick interrupted. He turned to Hershel and said, “This is your property and we will respect that.” He emphasized the last few words while giving hard looks to Shane and Daryl. To make his point clear, Rick laid his own revolver on the map. Shane and Andrea followed suit. “Alright. First things first. Set camp then find Sophia and Mel.”

“I hate to be the one to ask,” Shane leaned in, “but somebody’s got to. What happens if we find Sophia and she’s bit? We should be clear on how we handle that.”

“You do what has to be done.” Rick said with forced confidence.

“And her mother? What do you tell her?” Maggie asked, clearly disturbed by what she was hearing. She looked at her dad who was shaking his head, warning her not to get involved.

“The truth.” Andrea answered honestly. 

“I’ll gather and secure all the weapons.” Shane announced, changing the subject. “Make sure no one’s carrying ‘till we’re at a practice range off-site.” He walked up to Hershel and said, “I do request one rifleman on lookout. Dale’s got experience.” 

Everyone could see Hershel was having a hard time thinking it over. Rick turned to him. “Our people would feel safer, less inclined to carry a gun.” 

After a moment, Hershel slowly nodded his head. Rick and Andrea stayed to talk with Hershel and Maggie while Shane and Daryl left to start their missions. Daryl waited until he and Shane were out of earshot of anyone to say something.

“Hey.” He called out. When Shane turned around he added, “I’ll check the road for ya.” 

Shane narrowed his eyes as he observed Daryl. “Thought you were checkin’ the creek.”

“Yeah, but I’ll go by the road too.”

“What’s this really about?” 

“Nothin’ man, just tryin’ to help out.” 

“If you want to help out, stay out of my way.” Shane laughed. As he turned to leave Daryl spoke.

“I saw ya watchin’ her.” When Shane stopped and looked at him, Daryl continued, “Back at the highway.” 

“You tryin’ to accuse me of something?” Shane asked with aggression, hands on his hips. 

“Nothin’ ya haven’t already done. Ya plannin’ on doin’ the same thing to Mel as ya did to Otis?” Daryl growled.

Shane briskly approached him, “I didn’t do anything to your mutant whore. I should’ve though. I should’ve killed the both of you.” Shane said quietly with a wild look in his eye.

Daryl threw the first punch but Shane was quick to dodge it and tackled him. The two of them grappled with each other until Rick stepped in. “Whatever the hell this is, it stops now!” He commanded while Glenn helped pull the men apart.

Shane stood down with a cocky grin on his face while Daryl stormed off. He went back to his bike to gather a few things and cool off. He was low on fuel as it was and trying to race Shane to the highway would be a waste if Mel wasn’t there. He couldn’t risk it. It was better to just stick to his original plan and hope Mel wasn’t on the road, at least not while Shane was there. A quick piss in the bushes along the house and he was on his way. Daryl started walking down the driveway when Rick stopped him. 

“Daryl! What was that?” He asked.

“Nothin’, man. Forget it.” 

“You okay on your own?” 

“I’m better on my own.” He answered impatiently. As he turned to leave he added, “I’ll be back before dark.”

“Hey.” Rick shouted, making Daryl stop and look back at him. “We got a base. We can get this search properly organized now.”

“Ya got a point or are we just chattin’?” Daryl spat.

“My point is it lets you off the hook. You don’t owe us anything.”

Rick’s words and the way he said them got under Daryl’s skin. It was them that owed him, not the other way around as Rick assumed. Struggling to hold back, Daryl said the first smart ass remark he could think of, “My other plans fell through.” He scoffed then turned and left at a faster pace as not to give Rick another excuse to waste his time. 

Following his mental map, Daryl walked the driveway back to the road, then down to where the scattered trees congregated into a dense wood. He entered the forest where he knew the creek would be. Like a switch, he was tuned into the environment; moving quickly and silently, taking in every detail, every sound, every smell. He followed the creek for a mile until he noticed the trees thinned slightly several yards to its left. Upon investigation, he found a small clearing with a modest two-story wooden house at its center. The wooden siding was gray and frayed from age, the shingles on one side of the roof were falling off, and the windows that weren’t boarded up were punctured with holes from rocks thrown by bored kids. Daryl knew this place had been abandoned long before the apocalypse but figured it was still worth checking out. 

He entered the house with a swift kick to the back door. The smell of mildew and rot filled his nose with every step on the matted carpet. The few items of furniture still left were either broken or ravaged by squirrels. Every surface was caked in years of dust and the floor was slowly being replaced by dead leaves blown in through the broken windows.

Floorboards groaned as Daryl stalked through the house clearing each room as he went. His crossbow led the way, searching out a target but finding none. He entered the kitchen and discovered a recently opened can of spam. Someone had been here recently. He looked around and found a pantry door ajar. Sticking out of the darkness was the corner of a blanket. He opened it all the way to reveal a nest of blankets and pillows under the bottom shelf. The perfect size for a small twelve-year-old girl.

Daryl called out through the house for Sophia. When he got no answer he went out the back door and continued calling for her. Still, no answer. His confidence started to waver when something small and white caught his eye. It was a bush of Cherokee roses growing along the property line. Daryl walked up to them to confirm his identification. He knew the story behind this flower and it reassured him that Sophia had been in that abandoned house. Checking the daylight, Daryl estimated he had enough time to get back to the farm before dark. Gently, he plucked one of the white roses and headed back. Along the way, he found an old beer bottle. The label was too faded to read anymore but he knew the brand from his years of drinking with Merle. He took a moment to wash the glass in the creek and filled it halfway with fresh water for the flower.

Everyone was too busy with themselves to notice his return. Daryl didn’t see Carol among them so he checked the RV. He was surprised to find the interior had been organized and cleaned to the point where it was almost unrecognizable. He found Carol in the back sewing new curtains.

“I cleaned up.” She said, looking up from her sewing. “Wanted it to be nice for her.”

Daryl nodded and said with a smile, “For a second I thought I was in the wrong place.”

Carol smiled politely and went back to her sewing. Feeling like he was disturbing her, Daryl set the rose on the nightstand and prepared to leave. Carol smiled at it and said, “A flower?” With mild surprise. The pitch in her voice made him pause. 

“A Cherokee rose.” Daryl told her. When Carol showed no sign of understanding he decided to tell her what he knew about them. “The story is that when American soldiers were moving Indians off their land on the trail of tears, the Cherokee mothers were grieving and crying so much ‘cause they were losing their little ones along the way from exposure and disease and starvation. A lot of them just disappeared. So the elders, they said a prayer. Asked for a sign to uplift the mothers’ spirits, give them strength and hope. The next day, this rose started to grow right where the mothers’ tears fell.” 

After a moment he continued, “I’m not fool enough to think there’s any flowers blooming for my brother. But, I believe this one bloomed for your little girl.”

Fresh tears fell on Carol's face. She didn’t say anything but Daryl could tell she appreciated his gesture. As he left he took another look at the immaculate interior of the RV and said, “She’s gonna really like it in here.”

Carol smiled and nodded while wiping her face dry as he left. Outside the sun was close to setting. Daryl set up his tent with the others under a cluster of trees in front of the house. Sleep came easier for him this time. He felt confident he was on Sophia’s trail, which hopefully meant Mel’s as well. She had never been gone this long before and with each passing day, it bothered him more and more. Daryl found himself entertaining the same thoughts he had when Merle disappeared. He supposed he didn’t really have to worry about her getting bit but what if she got stuck somewhere and couldn’t make it back? Then there was the possibility that she decided to leave on her own. He tried to convince himself he didn’t care but it was no use. He wished she would just come back already.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Daryl woke to the smell of fried eggs. The buttery fragrance penetrated his dreams, waking his stomach first which urged him out of bed before he even had a chance to open his eyes. When he finally got up, he realized he had overslept by about three hours. That kind of sleep was unusual for him but Daryl figured his body must have needed it. His body must also need the eggs just as bad with the way his stomach was rumbling. He unzipped the door on his tent to find Lori cooking while Andrea, Glenn, Shane, and Carol ate. He took several large spoonfuls of scrambled eggs from the steaming skillet and sat down in a flimsy lawn chair next to Carol. If only the farm had pigs, then they would have a real breakfast. 

As Daryl finished his plate, T-dog, Dale, and Rick joined the breakfast buffet. In anticipation for the day’s search, Daryl told Rick and the others about the abandoned house he had found. They didn’t seem as hopeful as he was, but seeing the shadow over Carol’s face lifted by his news gave him all the validation he needed. When everyone had their fill, Rick called a meeting at the farm truck. Daryl, Shane, T-Dog, Andrea, and Dale were all in attendance, patiently waiting to hear the day’s plan.

“Alright. Everyone’s getting new search grids today.” Rick announced as he laid out the county map. “If Sophia’s made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found, she might have gone further east than we’ve been so far.”

“I’d like to help.” A timid voice interrupted. It was Jimmy, Beth’s boyfriend. “I know the area pretty well and stuff.”

“Hershel’s okay with this?” Asked Rick.

“Yeah, yeah!” The teen perked up. “He said I should ask you.”

“Alright then. Thanks.” Rick forced a smile.

“Nothin’ about what Daryl said screams Sophia to me.” Shane complained. He was sitting inside the truck with the door open acting like he was working on something. “Anyone could have been holed up in that farmhouse.”

“Anybody includes her, right?” Challenged Andrea.

“Whoever slept in the cupboard was no bigger than yay-high.” Explained Daryl, holding up his hand to guess Sophia’s height. 

“It’s a good lead.” Dale assured them. “Maybe we’ll pick up her trail again.”

“Ain’t no maybe ‘bout it.” Daryl said while putting on a plaid long sleeve shirt over his dirty off white tank top. “I’m gonna borrow a horse, head up to this ridge right here.” He pointed to a spot the map. “Take a bird’s eye view of the whole grid. If she’s up there, I’ll spot her.”

“Good idea.” T-Dog agreed with a pretentious tone. “Maybe you’ll see Mel or your chupacabra up there too.” He smiled without humor.

“You got somethin’ to say?” Daryl growled. They glared at each other for a moment until Rick broke the tension.

“Chupacabra?” He asked with earnest curiosity.

“You never heard this?” Dale smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. When Rick shook his head, he explained, “Our first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole thing reminds him of a time when he went squirrel hunting and he saw a chupacabra.”

“What ya brayin’ at, jackass?” Daryl growled at Jimmy who was laughing at the story. 

“You believe in a blood-sucking dog?” The teen asked trying not to sound condescending, but it was there. 

“Do ya believe in dead people walkin’ ‘round?” Daryl spat.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Rick said with a smile then focused his attention back on the map. “Let’s each take a section. Daryl has the ridge but these other areas need to be covered.” 

Eager to get started, and to get away from T-dog, Daryl left the group as Rick instructed the others. He went straight to the stables and picked the first horse he came to, a large tan mare with a light blond mane and tail. He had never ridden a horse before but he didn’t think it would be that difficult. Like a natural, he saddled up the horse and directed it to take him where he wanted to go. Daryl was surprised at how easy it was. The horse fearlessly climbed the rolling Georgia hills as he searched the woods. Feeling confident, he tried his hand at hunting while on horseback. Daryl spotted a red squirrel chattering at him from a tree several feet away. He took aim and squeezed the trigger, silencing the insufferable squeaking. With satisfaction, he rode up to the tree and plucked the limp rodent like an apple. 

After climbing another small ridge, Daryl came upon a new part of the creek. The shallow water flowed over a wide sandy area littered with logs and large branches. As he looked it over, he noticed something out of place, a splotch of color that didn’t belong. Daryl slowed the horse for a better look. It was a doll, Sophia’s doll. He had seen the blond ragdoll practically attached to her since arriving at the quarry in Atlanta. Finding the thing all on its own like this felt like finding a severed foot in an old dirty shoe in the shadows of an alley. It was Sophia’s safety blanket, that much was obvious. She never put it down for anything; not when that horde attacked the camp, not when they escaped the CDC, and not when being chased by two hungry walkers. Seeing it now could only mean bad news. 

Daryl quickly dismounted the horse and tied it to a tree. With great caution, he walked down the steep slope into the shallow creek bed. His pulse quickened as he picked up the dirty wet doll. It was cold and heavy from being soaked in the water. Daryl looked it over and found no blood, which was encouraging but didn’t guarantee anything. Daryl called for her as loud as could but only heard the distant chirping of birds and the light trickle of the water under his feet. He wrung out the doll and secured it under his belt. He told himself she would want it when he found her, in reality, the thought of leaving it faced down in the creek made him uneasy.

Getting back up the steep ridge took twice as long as it had coming down. Breathing heavy, Daryl untied the horse, pulled himself into the saddle, and continue the search. He rode above the creek at a slow pace so as not to miss anything. The ridge grew until he was looking down a nearly flat cliffside into a rocky gorge. Suddenly, a group of birds flushed from the bushes in front of them, startling the horse. Just as he thought it was under control, the animal reared up screaming. Daryl tried to calm the hysteric beast but was bucked off and sent tumbling out of control down the steep ridge toward the creek. It felt like he was falling for an hour until he slammed into the exposed rocks of the gorge, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could get a handle on himself, he felt the ground move beneath him; he was starting to slide. The flat rock was just at the right angle and just slippery enough to dump into the pool below as if he was a greased pancake in one of those non-stick pan commercials.

Daryl hit the shallow water with a splash and immediately knew something was wrong. His whole body hurt but the left side of his abdomen was on fire and he could feel the skin being pulled whenever he tried to move. Fearing he had a broken rib that was poking through, he reached down to feel the wound. When his fingers touched the familiar smooth round surface of an arrow, he felt oddly relieved. Daryl looked down at the arrow sticking out of his side and cursed. This wasn’t something he could just rub dirt in and keep going. He needed serious medical attention. 

Fighting through the pain, Daryl sat up and staggered to the sandy shore. The arrow had pierced his muscle but wasn’t in far enough to hit any organs. At least he didn’t think so. Either way, he had to act fast to prevent further injury. Using his hunting knife, Daryl cut the sleeves off his plaid shirt and tied them first together, then around his waist, and finally around the arrow to keep it from moving. Satisfied, he grabbed a nearby stick that looked sturdy enough to use as a makeshift crutch. He looked up at the ridge he had fallen down as he tested his weight on the stick and felt the blood drain from his body. Towering over him was a wall of trees and exposed dirt that stretch high into the sky. A veil of dread descended on him as he realized just how screwed he was. No, not screwed, he was royally fucked.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, there was a rustling in the bushes behind him a few feet from the creek. Instinctively, Daryl grabbed for his crossbow. His stomach sank when his fingers grasped nothing but air. He turned to see if he had dropped it on the shore but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He remembered gripping the weapon as he fell but hitting the rock must have knocked it from his hands. Since it wasn’t lying on the gorge, it must have slid down into the pool with him.

Daryl trudged waste deep into the cloudy water, using his new walking stick as a probe. Within moments it hit something hard. Hoping it wasn't a rock or a bunch of sticks, he grabbed at the object. As soon as his fingers were on it, he felt slightly relieved. Slowly, Daryl pried his crossbow from depths of the water until it emerged above the surface and he waded back to shore. Thankfully, whatever had been in the bushes was gone. Now he could focus on finding the best path up the ridge. 

Standing at the summit, he knew the climb was going to be intense. The wall wasn’t a perfect ninety-degree incline, which was the good news; bad news was it was covered in nothing but loose dirt and leaves. He was going to have to rely on the small trees gripping the sheer hillside to get him to the top. As Daryl started to climb, the wound in his side screamed with his every move, sucking the strength out of him. He grabbed at the small trees, praying they would hold as he pulled himself up. Like a ladder, each handle became a foothold so he could set up his next target. When he ran out of trees, he used the walking stick as an anchor. He found a good pace and within time, he brought himself halfway up the ridge. That’s when his luck ran out.

Things were going well until he reached an area where a ridge jutted out above him. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it was rock, but instead, it was made of loose dry earth. Daryl tried to anchor his stick but all that did was erode away the soil in a shower of dirt and rocks. Tossing his walking stick aside, he fixed his eyes on a small tree just out of reach to his left. The stick clamored as it fell down the ridge for several moments before reaching the bottom in a perfunctory THUNK. He did his best to not think about how far up he was and refused to look down.

His first attempt to grab the small tree failed. The arrow in his side stabbed at him with searing pain as it dragged against the hillside, making him stumble. 

“Oh come on.” He complained to himself. “You’ve done half. Stop being’ such a pussy. Come on!”

This time he threw all of his body weight forward, ready for the pain. The tips of his fingers brushed the smooth bark of the tree and once more, the soil shifted under his feet. Daryl hugged the crumbling dirt wall to keep himself from falling. He made the mistake of looking down and was in awe at the distance. It was a wonder he survived the first fall and decided he didn’t want to press his luck with another ride to rock bottom. He looked around for another option but found none. He had no choice but to reach that tree or he was going to end up down there with his walking stick. The dirt shifted under his feet again and he knew he was running out of time. He had one more chance, so he needed to give it everything he had, no matter how much it hurt. Daryl prepared himself and just as he was about to jump, the ground gave way.

Green. That was the only thing in Daryl’s mind because it was the only thing he could see. No shapes, just blotches of green. Water. He could hear the faint trickling of water like in the creek he was at earlier. Was he there now? He wasn’t sure. Trying to think made his head hurt. It was spinning something awful. Every time he tried to focus his eyes to get a look at where he was it would send his mind swimming into a sickening sea of blurs. So he stayed still and kept his eyes shut. Maybe he’d sleep awhile. A few hours sleep would do him some good. 

“Why don’t you pull that arrow out, dummy?” Said a voice. It was familiar but out of place. “You could bind yer wound better.”

Daryl opened his eyes to see who was talking. His vision was still blurry but he could see someone standing over him. They knelt down and a face swam into focus.

“Merle?” Daryl whispered with a smile.

“What’s goin’ on here?” Merle grinned. “Ya takin’ a siesta or somethin’?”

Daryl cleared his throat to answer. “Been a shitty day, bro.”

“Aww. Like me to get yer pillow? Maybe rub yer feet?” He made an exaggerated frowny face. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Nah, yer the one that’s fucked from the looks of it. All them years I spent tryin’ to make a man out of ya, this is what I get? Lyin’ in the dirt like a used rubber.”

Merle’s face swam in and out of focus as Daryl tried to look at him. He couldn’t understand what he was talking about. Daryl moved his hands around and felt hard wet earth beneath them. He was on the ground but why? Fall. That’s right, he remembered falling, not once but twice. That’s how he got the arrow in his side. Daryl looked down at his side where he felt a constant dull burning. It was difficult to move his head but he had to look. The arrow was sticking out more than he remembered. It stood proudly in the air like a flagpole and was smeared with fresh blood. He dropped his head back on the packed earth with a groan. 

“Yer gonna die out here little brother. And for what?” Merle taunted him.

“A girl. They lost a little girl.” 

“So you got a thing for little girls now?”

“Shut up.”

“Ya sure you ain’t out here tryin’ to find that floozy with the creepy eyes? ‘Cause I noticed you ain’t out lookin’ for old Merle no more.”

“Nah. Mel’s fine. She’ll turn up.”

“Oh I wouldn’t be so sure ‘bout that. She split, little bro. Left yer ass behind just like you did to me.”

“Tried like hell to find you, bro.”

“Like hell you did. Lit out first chance you got.”

“We went back for ya. Rick and I, we did right by ya.”

“This the same Rick that cuffed me to the rooftop in the first place? Forced me to cut off my hand?”

Daryl glanced down at Merle’s stump to see how it had healed. It took a moment for his eyes to focus but when they did he saw Merle had both hands. Daryl gawked at him stupidly. He was sure Merle had cut off his right hand. Daryl carried it around for the good part of a day for fuck sake. But there it was, plain as day, still attached to his brother. 

“This him we’re talkin’ ‘bout here? You his bitch now?”

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch.”

“Yer a damn joke is what ya are! Playin’ errand boy to a bunch o’ pansy-asses, niggers, and democrats. Yer nothin’ but a freak to them. Redneck trash. That’s all ya are to them and that’s all ya were to Mel.’

“That’s not true.”

“Sure it is, little brother. You really think a woman like her would be interested in the likes of you? You never had a chance in hell.”

“You don’t know her.”

“Neither do you! You don’t know any of ‘em. They’re laughing at ya behind yer back. Ya know that, don’t ya? I got a little news for ya, son. One day they gonna scrape ya off their heels like you was dogshit. Mel was the first and she ain’t gonna be the last.”

Daryl tried sitting up to tell Merle to fuck off but it was no good. His head throbbed and his side gripped him with pain. He flopped back down panting from the effort as Merle laughed at him.

“Hey.” Merle said as Daryl started to drift off. “They ain’t yer kin, yer blood. Hell, ya had any damn nuts in that sack of yours, you’d go back there and shoot yer pal Rick in the face for me.” He grabbed Daryl’s head and turned it toward him. “Now you listen to me. Ain’t no body ever gonna care ‘bout you ‘cept me, little brother. Nobody ever will.”

“Now com on.” Merle said standing up. “Get up on yer feet b’fore I have to kick yer teeth in.” He kicked at Daryl’s legs. “Let’s go!” 

He continued to pull at Daryl’s feet in an attempt to snap him out of it. Daryl lifted his head to tell him to stop but instead of Merle, he saw a man gnawing on the toe of his leather boot. The freshly turned corpse with bite marks pocketing its face looked up at him with milky eyes. It let out a hissing growl as one tooth fell from its socket. Daryl sobered instantly as adrenalin jumpstarted his body. He kicked at the walker’s face, sending more teeth flying. He scrambled for his crossbow but it was just out of reach. The walker was on him in seconds. Daryl punched and kicked as the thing crawled on top of him, its glazed eyes wide and unblinking and its bloody mouth gaping with jagged and missing teeth. He felt for his knife still safe in its sheath on his belt. He pulled it out and thrust it into the corpse but it made no difference. The knife stuck out of the thing’s chest as it continued its assault. Daryl wrestled with it until he found he bumped into his walking stick. He grabbed for it and used the thick branch as a shield to push the walker away. 

At last he had the upper hand. Daryl forced his weight to one side and they tumbled over until he was on top. Daryl brought the stick down onto the walkers face until it caved, but it still grasped at his chest with the same unhinged desperation they all had. He turned the stick upright and drove the end of it deep into the walker’s mangled skull. It went limp just as a second walker emerged from the bushes. It was another man but looked more decomposed than the first, with its grey skin and dirty clothes. Daryl wondered briefly if it was responsible for turning the guy he was kneeling on as the corpse stumbled toward him. He pulled at the stick to defend himself only to realize with sickening horror that it was stuck. He looked over and saw his crossbow. Without arrows, the thing was no better than the stick. Instinctively, he looked down at his only arrow sticking out of his side. With little consideration, he grasped the end and yanked fast. Daryl let out a cry of pain as the thick end dragged itself through his skin and under his muscle. Now, all he had to do was load it. The walker tripped on a felled log, buying Daryl some extra time. It took all of his strength to pull back the crossbow’s string. As soon as it clicked into place he loaded the arrow in and fell back on the ground as the walker came up to him. With only seconds to spare, he pulled the trigger, sending the arrow deep into the walker’s skull. Still walking, the thing dropped face-first into the sand next to Daryl. 

He let out a sigh of relief and relaxed his body on the ground. Not only did he kill two walkers with next to nothing but he also survived two falls from nearly seventy feet. The hole in his side throbbed but it felt better than having an arrow in him. He laid in the wet sand for a moment reflecting on his accomplishments as the steep ridge loomed over him. He gradually became aware of a warm sensation spreading out from the wound. Fearing he would bleed out, Daryl sat up, took off his torn shirt, balled it up, and tied it in place over the wound with the sleeves. The compress hurt but it would stop the bleeding.

“Son of a bitch was right.” He mumbled to himself. 

Still riding the adrenalin high, he cut open the squirrel. It was a mystery to him how the thing managed to survive both trips down the hill, but he wasn’t complaining. Daryl carefully dissected and ate the organs for a quick energy boost as he stared at the dead walkers as an unusual compulsion overcame him. After he was done with his snack, he cut the ears off both walkers and used one of their shoelaces to thread them like a necklace. He held it up in front of him, a testament of his survival, and put his head through the loop. He was ready to get the fuck out of this gorge. 

Daryl mapped out a new path up the cliff and started climbing. His body cried out in protest but he ignored it. He inched his way along until he was within feet of the top. Once again, a brittle shelf of dirt hung over him. He surveyed the area and weighed his options as a vulture circled overhead. He had the odd sensation that someone was watching him and as he looked up, Merle was standing over him on the ledge. 

“Please, don’t feed the birds.” Merle laughed as Daryl groaned with annoyance. “What’s the matter, Darlina? That all you got in ya? Throw away that purse and climb, god damnit!”

“I liked it better when you was missin’.” Daryl grunted as he struggled to climb over the shelf. 

“Come on, don’t be like that.” Merle laughed. “I’m on your side.”

“Yeah? Since when?”

“Hell, since the day you were born, baby brother. Someone had to look after your worthless ass.”

“You never took care of me.” Daryl growled, slowly inching his way up. “Ya talk big game but you was never there. Hell, you ain’t here now. Guess some things never change.”

“Well, I’ll tell ya what. I’m as real as yer chupacabra.”

“I know what I saw.”

“And I’m sure them mushrooms you ate had nothin’ to do with it, right?”

“Ya best shut the hell up!”

“Or what? Yer gonna come up here and shut my mouth for me? Well come on and do it then if you think yer man enough. Hey, kick off them damn high heels and climb, son.”

The sapling Daryl was gripping suddenly uprooted. He stumbled as a spray of dirt covered his face. For a moment he thought he had just bought another one-way ticket to the bottom, but he caught hold of a few exposed roots and stabilized himself. 

“Ya know what?” Merle continued. “If I were you, I’d take a pause for the cause, brother. ‘Cause I just don’t think yer gonna make it to the top.”

Daryl pushed himself harder than ever. He willed his way forward, clawing at the wall, no longer working with it but rather making it work for him. Finally, his hand breached the top and touched flat ground. He dug his fingers into the earth and pulled. Every fiber in his body threatened to give up, but he wouldn’t let them, not when he was at the finish line. 

“Come on! Come on, little brother.” Merle coaxed him. “Grab yer friend, Rick’s hand.” He grinned.

Daryl swung his other arm over the ledge and grabbed another fist full of grass. He pulled until he could swing his leg up on the ledge and rolled his body over onto the flat ground. He caught his breath a moment then looked around for Merle. Daryl struggled to his feet and observed the surrounding forest. 

“Yeah, you’d better fuckin’ run!” He shouted, panting breathlessly.

The walk back was long. Daryl hadn’t realized just how much time that horse had saved him. If only it was there now for the journey back to the farm. Stupid thing couldn’t just say put, had to go running off. He hoped it was dead.

Merle never came back, he was grateful for that. On top of everything else, he didn’t need to add hallucinations to his list of problems. As he walked, the crossbow started to feel heavier and heavier. Normally, he wore it on his left but that wasn’t an option with the bleeding wound in his side. He slung it on his right shoulder for a time but he got tired of the awkward feeling it gave him, like wearing your shoes on the wrong feet. It bouncing annoyingly against his back with each step and trying to keep it from falling off his shoulder every two minutes was exhausting, so he resorted to dragging it. The daylight slowly drained from the woods as the sun went down, taking the temperature with it. By that time Daryl could see the farmhouse through the thinning trees, lit up by the sun like a beacon.

Knowing he was close made his bones yearn for the comfort of his tent. He had never been so exhausted and wasn’t even sure how he was still moving. Miraculously, his feet kept putting themselves in front of each other, propelling him forward. He saw several dots bouncing toward him through the field as he exited the trees. As they got closer he could make out Rick, Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog. When they met him they all had their weapons at the ready and looks of both shock and horror plastered on their faces.

“That’s the third time you pointed that thing at my head.” He said to Rick who was holding up his revolver. “Ya gonna pull the trigger or what?”

Daryl felt white-hot pain tear across the left side of his head and he fell to the ground. He heard a gunshot echo over the field as he lay on the stiff grass. 

“No! No!” Rick screamed in panic and ran to Daryl. 

“Damn, I was just kidding.” Daryl mumbled as Rick rolled him over. Then everything went black.

Daryl woke up in an unfamiliar room he guessed was in the farmhouse. His body ached and throbbed all over but it felt nice to lay in a soft bed. The shades were drawn on the bedroom window but he could see the dullness of twilight still clinging to the sky. Shortly after, Hershel walked in followed by Rick and Shane.

“I was hoping to stitch you up before you woke.” Hershel admitted as he set a tray of utensils and bandages on the nightstand. “This won’t be very pleasant.”

“I’ve been through worse.” Daryl said with gravel in his voice.

“What happened to you out there?” Rick asked desperately. 

“I almost died is what happened. Watch it!” He winced as Hershel wiped his side wound with alcohol. 

“Where did you find Sophia’s doll?” Rick continued.

“Get me a map and I’ll show ya.”

Shane quickly left to retrieve the county map from outside. Hershel instructed Daryl to take off his shirt and turn on his side so he could get started on the stitches. Rick observed him as he carefully removed the dirty blood-soaked tank top and revealed the extent of his injuries. Shane returned moments later and handed the map to Rick who laid it out on the bed in front of Daryl.

“I found it washed up on the creek bed, right there.” He said pointing to a spot on the map. “She must have dropped it crossing there somewhere.”

“That cuts the grid almost in half.” Rick sighed with relief. 

“Yeah, yer welcome.” Daryl responded sarcastically.

Rick gave him a sympathetic look then observed Hershel at work. “How’s he looking?”

“I had no idea we’d be going through the antibiotics so quickly.” Hershel complained. “Any idea what happened to my horse?” He asked Daryl.

“The one that almost killed me? If it’s smart, it left the country.” 

“We call that one Nelly, as in nervous Nelly. I could have told you she’d throw you if you’d bothered to ask.” Hershel scolded.

Daryl held his tongue while the old man continued treating him. Rick and Shane exchanged uncomfortable looks before Shane left the room. Rick stood to follow him but Hershel stepped in his path to make one last point. 

“It’s a wonder you people have survived this long.” He said disapprovingly.   
Rick looked at Daryl lying on the bed, bruised and battered. Daryl looked back at him, holding each other’s gaze for a moment before Rick broke it off and left the room. He didn’t like the old man’s comment any more than Rick had but, like him, Daryl wasn’t going to say anything. He was too tired and, at any rate, the bastard was right. As sheltered as this family was, were Rick and the others really that better off?

By the time Hershel was done, Daryl had stitches on the side of his stomach, his back, and his head. Clean white bandages were wrapped on all of them to keep the stitches clean and prevent them from rubbing on anything. On the doctor’s orders, he was told to take it easy the next couple days until his skin had a chance to start the healing process. Daryl had no objections to that. After today, he had zero interest in risking his life for some kid that everyone thinks is dead. He did his part. What the others did was none of his concern.

Daryl lay in the soft farmhouse bed thinking over his brush with death. He had half a mind to grab Merle’s stash and smoke a joint, but he continued to lie where he was. He could hear the others down the hall all having dinner together for the first time in the house. A regular Thanksgiving. Who were the indians and who were the pilgrims, he wondered. It was then that someone entered his room. He had to lie on his side opposite where the arrow penetrated him which put his back to the door. He lifted his head to find Carol standing in the doorway with a plate of food.

“How are you feeling?” She asked softly.

“About as good as I look.” Daryl grumbled and turned back over.

“I brought you some dinner. You must be starving.” She set the plate on the nightstand and lingered a moment. 

To Daryl’s utter surprise she bent down and kissed him on the head. “Watch out, I got stitches.” He said defensively. He blushed, realizing how stupid it sounded.   
Carol continued to stand next to his bed. Daryl could feel her eyes on him and his muscles tightened. He quickly pulled the bedsheets over him to block her view of the old scars on his back. Eventually, he heard her footsteps as she walked away. 

“You need to know something.” She said.

Daryl moved to look at her. She was standing in the doorway, close to tears but had a smile on her face. 

“You did more for my little girl today than her own daddy ever did in his whole life.”

“I didn’t do anythin’ Rick or the others wouldn’t have done.”

“I know. You’re every bit as good as them, you know. Every bit.” She smiled and shut the door quietly as she left.


	7. Chapter 7

That night, Daryl’s dreams were restless. He woke several times before eventually giving up. He navigated his tired stiff body through the dark of the farmhouse and down its steps into the encampment outside. Carefully, he climbed into his tent and tore off the bandages on his head and abdomen before lying down. The cool night air soothed his exposed stitches and he fell asleep within minutes.

The stirring of the others woke Daryl in the early morning light. For the first time in a long time, he had no desire to get up. He laid in his tent listening to the birds and the murmurs of the group until it sounded like breakfast was being served, then he joined them. 

“Daryl, you should be resting.” Rick softly urged him. “Go lay back down. I’ll have Lori bring you a plate.” 

“I’ll get my own damn food.” Daryl dismissed him.

He grabbed himself a clean plate and loaded it with the reheated leftovers from last night’s dinner. While picking out silverware, Daryl felt a prickly sensation spread over his skin from all the sympathetic eyes that were fixed on him. It was the same look people gave wounded animals they felt sorry for but didn’t actually want to take on the responsibility. He quickly retreated to his tent so he could eat his breakfast in peace. Shortly after finishing his plate, Andrea appeared at his open doorway.

“Hey. This isn’t that great but…” She handed him a small paperback book.

Daryl read the title, The Case of the Missing Man by Jimmie Herron. He quickly flipped through the pages. “What, no pictures?” 

“I’m so sorry. I feel like complete shit.” She apologized.

“Yeah. You and me both.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but if there’s anything I can do…”

“You were tryin’ to protect the group. We’re good.”

Andrea smiled and stood to leave. Before she got too far Daryl said, “But hey, shoot me again, and you’d best pray I’m dead.”

Andrea smiled once more then went on her way.

Daryl spent the day doing more thinking than anything. He thought about his hallucination with Merle, what it all meant, and about what Carol had said to him. He woke to someone shouting, not realizing he had fallen asleep. Daryl sat up on his elbows to look through the tent’s screen window and saw Lori and Glenn with Maggie. The farmer’s daughter was chewing out Lori about something and throwing what she called ‘abortion pills’ at her before storming off. It appeared Lori had finally found someone just as dramatic as her to contend with. Daryl laid back down and closed his eyes for a while but couldn’t go back to sleep. He rubbed his face, wincing at the tender cuts on his head and ear. He looked around his tent and saw the necklace of ears he made, relieved to see it wasn’t lost. Next to that was the book Andrea had left him. Daryl wasn’t much of a reader but he picked it up anyway. After the first few pages he felt sleepy again and let himself doze off. 

It was nightfall when Daryl finally woke again. This is turning into a bad habit, he thought, then went outside to pee. Everyone had gone to sleep, leaving the camp still and quiet. The sweetness of the cool night air was enticing to him, so rather than go back to his tent Daryl stoked the campfire and pulled up a chair. He stared at the flames, emptying his mind when he heard someone stirring. Daryl looked up and although it was dark he could see T-dog stretching in front of his tent. He looked at Daryl then quickly dropped his eyes and wandered out of camp, most likely to pee. The peaceful night must have had an effect on him too because instead of going back to bed, T-dog waked up to the fire opposite Daryl. 

“I’m sorry.” T-dog said forcefully before the silence could become awkward. When Daryl didn’t say anything, he continued. “I’ve been a real motha fucka to you lately.”

“Yeah, ya have.” Daryl spat.

“Have you found any sign of Mel? A trail, anything?” He asked desperately.

Daryl averted his eyes to the fire and reluctantly shook his head. T-dog let out a deep sigh and rubbed his hands over his face and bald head. After a few moments he said, “All this searchin’ we’re doin’, just between you and me, I think it’s just to make everyone feel like their doin’ somethin’. Keep ‘em occupied, you know? Then after a few days of wearin’ ourselves out we can say we did all that we can do. Really, we never had a chance in the first place.” T-dog said solemnly. 

“If anyone’s gonna find them,” He added, “it’s you. I’ve known that from the start. But every time you come back alone…” He trailed off. “I dunno. I guess I just started blamin’ you. Seein’ you all fucked up made me realize that.” Daryl acknowledged him with a nod and after a few moments T added with a defeated tone, “I’m just glad we didn’t lose you too.” 

T-dog went back to his tent without waiting for a response from Daryl, which was probably for the best. Daryl chose to stay up and added a fresh log to the fire. He couldn’t get T-dog’s words out of his head. “I’m just glad we didn’t lose you too.” Why did everyone believe Mel was lost? She’s been gone a long time but that didn’t mean anything. She probably had her reasons and when she got back she would be able to explain everything. Not only that, but why did they feel like he would be such a loss to the group? Mel fit in better than him so what did they care? He brooded on these thoughts until the log was nothing than a more a smoldering pile of ash. By then he could no longer keep his eyes open and retreated to his tent, the words still burned into his mind. “… glad we didn’t lose you too.”

The next morning, everyone sat around the fire eating breakfast. Daryl couldn’t stand being cooped up in his tent for another day so he braved the uncomfortable looks and sat with the others. He was the first to notice Glenn standing awkwardly in the middle of the camp. He looked from one person to another attempting to get their attention but couldn’t hold it for long. Finally, he spoke up. 

“Uh, guys.” His voice was quiet and shaky. No one noticed him so he tried again, “Hey! I, uh, have something to say.” 

This time several heads turned to him. Daryl didn’t like the look of him. The kid was a dork but he’s never seen him this nervous before. Daryl wondered if he was going to spill the beans about Lori and the abortion pills. The look in Glenn’s eyes told him it was something else, something urgent. He was scared but of what? 

“So, uh… the barn is full of walkers.” He finally said with apprehension.

At first no one took him seriously but one look at his face told them he wasn’t joking around. Rick was the first to react. He stood and made a b-line for the barn as the rest followed. Daryl scraped the rest of his plate into his mouth and quickly walked after them, the stitches in his side twinged with pain making him slower than the others. Everyone gathered in front of the barn and regarded it with fearful eyes as if it was going to suddenly spring to life and bite them if they got too close. Rick walked up to its doors and peered through the crack for a few moments then cursed before walking back to the group. Shane did the same and jerked away fast as if startled by something. 

“You cannot tell me you’re all right with this.” He said with anger as he stormed up to Rick.

“No I’m not, but we’re guests here. This isn’t our land.” Rick tried to reason.

“This is our lives!” Shane shouted.

“Lower your voices.” Glenn hushed them, throwing hesitant glances at the barn.

“We can’t just sweep this under the rug.” Andrea said crossing her arms.

Rick laid out the options in his usual methodic way. “Okay, we’ve either got to go in there,” He gestured to the farmhouse, “we’ve got to make things right or we just leave. We’ve been talking about Fort Benning for a long time now.”

“We can’t go.” Carol said in a child-like whine

“Why not?” Asked Rick. 

“Because my daughter is still out there.” She said with hurt in her voice.

“Mel too.” Added T-dog. 

Shane ran his hands over his buzz cut head. “Okay, I think it’s time that we all start to just consider the other possibility.”

Carol looked as if he had slapped her in the face. “We’re not leaving Sophia behind.” She said with more conviction.

Daryl felt the heat rise in his cheeks. “Hey, I’m close to findin’ this girl. I just found her damn doll two days ago!” 

“Yeah, you found her doll, Daryl. That’s what you did. You found a DOLL.” Shane said in an overly condescending tone. 

“You don’t know what the fuck y’re talkin’ ‘bout!” Daryl shouted. He tried to get close to him but was blocked by Rick.

Shane put his hands up and backed away. “I’m just saying what needs to be said, man. You get a good lead, it’s in the first forty-eight hours. That’s cop one-o-one, right Rick? Or have you forgotten?”

“Shane, stop!” Rick warned him as Carol burst into tears.

“The same goes for Mel.” Shane continued. “Hell, with that mutant gone, that’s one less problem on our list.” 

“What the fuck you just say?” T-dog stepped toward him.

“And let me tell you something else, man.” Shane pointed at Daryl. “If her or Sophia was alive out there and saw you coming all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, they would run in the other direction!”

An explosion of shouting erupted as Daryl lunged at Shane. The two exchanged blows until Rick and T-Dog pulled them apart. 

“Now just let me talk to Hershel. Let me figure it out.” Rick yelled with desperation.

“What are you gonna figure out, Rick?” Shane roared, getting in his face.

“If we’re gonna stay, if we’re gonna clear this barn, I have to talk him into it. This is his land.”

Dale walked up to Rick and calmly said, “Hershel sees those things in there as people. Sick people. His wife, his stepson.”

“You knew?” Shane asked.

“Yesterday.” He nodded. 

“And you waited the night?” He roared with murder in his eyes.

“I thought we could survive another night. And we did.” Dale said matter of fact as Shane scoffed. “I was waiting until this morning to say something but Glenn wanted to be the one.” 

“The man is crazy, Rick.” Shane shouted. “If Hershel thinks those things are alive or not!”

Rick tried to quiet Shane but it was too late. The double doors of the barn pulsed as the walkers inside took notice of the group, rattling the thin chain holding them in. They watched in horror as dirty, blood stained fingers probed at the opening between the doors; their fingernails scratching and breaking against the old wood. With Rick’s lead, everyone vacated back to camp. 

“Everyone just stay calm and wait ‘till I talk to Hershel.” Rick explained. “We will work this out so stay put and don’t do anything stupid.” He glared at Shane.

Moments after Rick went into the farmhouse, Shane went back to the barn. Lori tried calling out to him but he dismissed her with a wave of his arm. With the situation out of their hands, everyone went about their daily chores. Daryl wasn’t about to spend another day sitting on his ass and since no one else was willing to look for Sophia, it was up to him to get back on her trail. She was close, he could feel it. 

Daryl stole off to the stables, not caring if he had Hershel’s permission or not. The horse that bucked him off, Nervous Nelly, was back in her stall without so much as a scratch. She whinnied and stomped when she saw Daryl but he was too tired to pay her any mind. He picked up the same saddle he had used before, only he didn’t remember it being so heavy. His side ached and throbbed as he struggled to carry the saddle over to the wooden stand and nearly collapsed while trying to set it down. 

“Daryl, you can’t…” Carol was suddenly behind him, her voice full of concern.

“I’m fine.” Daryl interrupted.

“Hershel said you need to heal.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do. Rick’s going out later to follow the trail.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t gonna sit around and do nothin’.” Daryl grumbled as he opened the stall of a chestnut colored horse with black hair. 

“No, you’re going to go out there and get yourself hurt even worse. We don’t know if we’re going to find her, Daryl.” In response to his shocked glare, she added, “We don’t. I don’t.” 

Daryl couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He dropped the horse’s reins and walked out of the stall with a look of confused anger plain on his face. “What?”

“My little girl is gone. We already lost Mel trying to find her. I can’t lose you too.” She whimpered, close to tears. 

There it was again. Daryl could feel himself ready to explode. Quickly, he turned to storm out of the stable. Along the way he grabbed the saddle and tried to throw it out of rage but was immediately crippled by the pain in his side. He dropped the saddle and fell on top of it, letting out a cried of pain and anger. 

“Are you alright?” Carol gasped, rushing to his aid. 

“Just leave me be!” He shouted and forcefully shrugged her off of him. “Stupid bitch.” He cursed loud enough for her to hear as he stormed off.

Daryl didn’t go back to camp. He couldn’t stand the thought of being around any of them right now. Instead, he started walking the property line. He trudged through the thick grass, satisfied by the way he could rip it apart with his stride as it grappled with his ankles. His mind was a fury of angry thoughts; chaotic and disorienting. At about the halfway mark he finally calmed down, his pace slowed, and his mind cleared.

How could Carol give up on her daughter already? How could any of them? It’s not like she was lost in the city overrun with walkers. She was somewhere out in the Georgia wilderness with plenty of places to hide, fresh water to drink, and about a thousand things to eat if you had any common sense. Not only that, he had to be no more than two days away from finding her. All the evidence he found told him so but no one seemed to believe him.

What T-dog said to him came to the forefront of his mind. Daryl would have to be pretty stupid if he hadn’t put the pieces together a long time ago. Mel wasn’t on the same trail he was. He didn’t want to tell T that but he suspected he didn’t have to. If she was on the same trail, Daryl would have seen the signs by now but in all the days he had been searching he hadn’t found a single trace of her. All this time he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge that fact but it was becoming harder not to.

Daryl came to a small pond far off on the property. His breath caught in his throat as he walked the water’s edge. The pond was lined with a bouquet of grass and wild flowers except for one section. The congested vegetation naturally thinned out to create a frame around a small bush blooming with Cherokee roses. It looked like something straight out of a painting. It was too perfect to be more than a coincidence. He couldn’t help but think of Carol and was helpless to prevent the regret from crashing down on him. She didn’t deserve to be treated the way he had treated her this morning. Maybe if she saw these flowers, she wouldn’t lose hope in finding her daughter. Quickly, Daryl returned to camp to find her. She was pinning up clothes with Lori, both regarding him with scornful eyes as he approached. Clearly she had told Lori what happened. It didn’t matter, he had to make things right.

“Can I show ya somethin’?” He asked but Carol hesitated. 

“Go on. I got this.” Lori smiled. 

Carol nodded and followed Daryl. He took the straight path to the pond. They were silent all the way, but not in a way that made it awkward. Even now, Carol trusted him. He brought her to the pond and pointed at the white flowers as they approached.

“See it?’ He asked.

“See what?” She said, craning her neck. 

Daryl walked up to the white roses and touched one. “I’ll find her.”

Carol looked at the roses solemnly but smiled for him none the less. She walked up to the bush and gently touched the soft white petals.

“I’m sorry ‘bout what happened this mornin’.” He apologized earnestly.

“I’m sorry for what I said too.” In response to his confused look she continued, “For what I said about Mel. I didn’t mean to imply something bad happened to her. I know how it feels.” When Daryl only stared at his feet, she added, “You wanted to look for my girl. Why? This whole time I’ve wanted to ask you.”

“‘Cause I think she’s still out there.” He said with confidence, looking up from the ground. After a long pause he added, “Truth is, what else I got to do?”

Carol breathed deep and took in the beauty of the small pond. “We’ll find her. Mel too.” She smiled wide and put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for showing me this.” 

Carol walked back toward the farm leaving Daryl by the water. He lingered a moment longer to stare at the flowers. His stomach churned in that same uneasy way it did every time he thought about Mel, so he followed behind Carol. He caught up to her and they walked back in the same calming silence. When they got to the house they found that everyone was sitting on the porch, including Patricia and the other daughter, Beth. He could hear them talking but couldn’t make out the words until he got closer. 

“We were supposed to leave a couple hours ago.” Andrea was saying to the others.

“Yeah, you were. What the hell?” Daryl said walking up to the group.

“Rick told us he was going out.” Carol said behind him.

“Damnit!” Daryl cursed out loud with frustration. “Isn’t anyone takin’ this seriously? We got us a damn trail.” He turned to see Shane walking up the driveway. “Oh, here we go.” Daryl said, thinking Shane had just come from the woods with news. As he got closer, Daryl could see he was carrying the sheriff bag full of guns and holding a shotgun. “What’s all this?” Daryl asked.

“You with me, man?” Shane asked him.

Daryl didn’t know what to say. Shane had that crazed look in his eye the way he did at the CDC and when he tried to kill Mel. Shane shoved a shotgun in his arms and started handing the rest out to the others. 

“It’s time to grow up!” Shane shouted. 

Daryl had a feeling he knew where this was going and, putting his and Shane’s differences aside, he was all for it. 

“You already got yours?” Shane asked Andrea. 

“Yeah. Where’s Dale?” She asked.

“He’s on his way.” Shane answered vaguely then handed a handgun to T-Dog.

“Thought we couldn’t carry.” T-Dog said, taking the gun. 

“We can and we have to.” Shane said then stood in the center of the crowd and addressed everyone. “Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daises when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. But now we know it ain’t.” He shouted. 

Shane walked up to Glenn, “What about you, man? Can you protect yours?” 

Glenn looked nervously at Maggie standing next to him, then grabbed the gun.

“What about you?” Shane asked, turning to Maggie. “Can you shoot?”

“Can you stop?” Maggie demanded. When Shane turned to give someone else a gun, she continued. “If you do this, hand out all these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight.” She warned.

“We have to stay, Shane.” Carl begged as he stood up on the porch steps. It was the first time he had been out of bed in almost a week.

Lori ran out of the house and shouted, “What is this? What’s going on?”

“We ain’t going anywhere, okay?” Shane assured Carl. “Now look, Hershel, he’s just gotta understand. Okay? He… well, he’s just gonna have to.” He addressed the group. “Now we need to find Sophia. Am I right?” Shane bent down to Carl as if asking him directly. The young boy nodded his head, his dad’s sheriff’s hat bouncing. “Now I want you to take this. You take it Carl, and you keep your mother safe.” He held out a nine-millimeter handgun to the pale ten-year-old. Carl was visibly uncomfortable and clearly torn between authority figures. “You do whatever it takes. You know how. Go on, take it. Take the gun and do it.”

Lori ran down the step and put herself between Shane and her son. “Rick said no guns. This is not your call. This is not your decision to make.” She urged him quietly and full of anger. 

“Oh shit!” T-Dog shouted. 

Everyone turned to him but he was looking toward the barn. Emerging from the woods was Jimmy clapping loudly as Hershel and Rick each walked behind a walker. They seemed to be holding onto a stick that was attached to the animated corpse. Shane dropped the bag of guns and took off running toward them. Daryl and the rest followed. As they got closer Daryl could see the sticks were catchpoles, the ones with nooses around the end used to control wild animals.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Shouted Shane who got to them first.

“Shane, just back off!” Rick shouted while trying to maintain control on the heavyset walker in bloody overalls. It had a large chunk missing from its neck through which it gurgled and dripped foaming blood. 

“Why do you people have guns?” Hershel asked loudly. He had the easier of the two walkers. It was a woman in her late sixties with greying hair and a torn sundress with a bites taken out of her arms and face.

“Are you kidding me?” Shane laughed then turned to the rest of the group who caught up to him. “Do you see what they’re holding on to?”

“I see WHO I’m holding on to!” Hershel corrected him.

“No, man, you don’t!” He shouted back. 

Shane circled the two men holding the walkers. Every time he passed one of the living corpses it would lunge at him, growling with an open mouth and outstretched arms. Each jerk threatened to rip the pole from the handler. Rick, Hershel, and Jimmy continued to walk toward the barn regardless of the chaos.

“Shane, just let us do this and then we can talk.” Rick shouted. 

“What do you want to talk about, Rick? These things ain’t sick. They're not people. They’re dead. Ain’t gonna feel nothing for them ‘cause all they do is kill!” Shane continued to shout and circle around them making the walkers harder to control. “These things right here, they’re the things that killed Amy. They killed Otis. They’re gonna kill all of us.”

Daryl could see Andrea nod her head out of the corner of his eye, agreeing with Shane’s ranting. He was more concerned with one of the walkers getting loose so he stepped out to the side of the group and kept his shotgun pointed at the closest walker. 

“Shane, SHUT UP!” Rick roared but it was no good.

“Hey, Hershel. Man, let me ask you something. Could a living breathing person walk away from this?” Shane asked, then raised his gun and shot three rounds into the female walker’s abdomen. It stumbled slightly then went back to its attempted assault. Rick continued to shout but was ignored. “Could someone who’s alive just take that!? Why is it still coming!?”

Daryl kept the male walker in his sights. When Rick wasn’t shouting at Shane or trying to keep from losing his grip on the catchpole, he would shoot desperate glances at Daryl. He knew Rick wanted him to take his side and stop Shane but for once he actually agreed with the prick.

Shane pumped three more shots into the walker’s chest. The thing stumbled again, almost to the point of falling over, then regained its footing and continued reaching for him. 

“That’s its heart, its lungs. Why is it still coming?” He shouted.

“SHANE, ENOUGH! Rick shouted desperately. 

“You’re right, man. That is enough.” Shane said then briskly walked up to Hershel’s walker and shot it in the head. 

Instantly, the thing’s knees buckled and fell to the ground. Hershel fell with it, a look of utter disbelief on his face. 

Shane continued on his rant. “Enough risking our lives for a little girl who’s dead! Enough hopin’ that some crazy bitch is comin’ back when she’s better off gone. Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us. Enough! Rick, it ain’t like it was before!”

Daryl glanced at Carol. Her face was red and full of defeat.

“Now if y’all want to live.” Shane shouted. “If y’all want to survive, you gotta fight for it! I’m talking about fighting right here, right now!” He turned and ran up to the barn doors.

“Take the pole!” Rick yelled at Hershel who was staring in disbelief at the dead walker. “Hershel, take the pole. Hershel, listen to me, man, please.” He pleaded but the old farmer didn’t move, didn’t even look at him. 

Shane had taken up a pick axe and was pounding on the old rusty chain holding the doors. Walkers could be heard gargling and shrieking loudly from inside. 

“Take it now, Hershel!” Rick yelled. “TAKE IT!” He gave up on the old man and shouted at Shane, “No! Don’t do this, brother. Wait! Please!”

One last swing and the chain broke. Shane lifted the wooden barricade and pounded on the doors, calling the dead to their demise. Rick continued to plead with his friend and the others not to kill what came out.

“Come on! We’re out here!” Shane turned and ran back to the group. He picked up his gun and prepared to shoot. 

Maggie ran to her father who at this point was in shock while Rick continued to beg Shane to stop. Lori pulled Carl to her, shielding him from the fight to come. Carol stood with tears streaming down her face and her hands over her mouth. Then the first of the walkers appeared. A bald man was the first to stumble out of the darkness. He wore blue jean overalls caked with dry mud up to its knees and a large bite on his forearm. Just behind him was a blonde woman with half her face missing. Behind her was a younger looking man with bites taken out of his neck and shoulder. As the walkers trickled out, those with guns lined up next to Shane and started firing. The air burst into life with pleading cries, shouting, and the echo of gunfire. Shane turned to glare at Rick then shot the walker he was holding. It dropped to the ground but Rick made no move to join the shooters. 

Bodies of the dead began to pile up and litter the ground in front of the barn. Within minutes the constant flow of corpses slowed to a trickle until the last of the walkers was extinguished and all went silent. The cloud of thin white gunsmoke was now being gently lifted away by a light breeze. 

No one said anything. Dale, who had been absent throughout the whole ordeal, came walking up behind the crowd in awe. Shane turned and looked between him and Rick with a grimace of superiority. It was a look that said, “See, Rick? I did what you didn’t have the balls to do. I protected these people while you just sat there and did nothing.”

Daryl lowered his shotgun and glanced back at the group. Something in Rick’s face caught his eye. He was still staring at the barn but he looked as if he was going to be sick. Daryl watched the color drain out of his face. He followed Rick’s stare back to the barn and from within the darkness behind the crack in the doors there was movement. He raised his shotgun and waited for the walker to appear. When it finally did, Daryl felt the world fall away from him. 

Stumbling out of the dark was Sophia. She no longer looked like the sweet quiet child she had once been. Her sunken white eyes scanned over each of them as she slowly staggered forward. No one moved. They were collectively frozen in shock as the little girl they had spent so long searching for came shambling into the light. Her pale dirty skin made her tiny body look even more frail than when she was alive. She had dry mud caked on her legs and feet like all the others, sticks and leaves dangled from her snarled blonde hair, and the large gaping bite on her shoulder was now dry and crusted. Old blood from the wound had soaked into her pink princess shirt and left behind a rusty brown stain. It was easy to piece together the story of what happened to her as if she had explained it herself. She had been dead since the day they lost her.

A scream pierced the silence. Daryl whipped his head around to see Carol running toward the thing that had once been her daughter. Just before she passed him, Daryl reached out and grabbed her. They both fell to the ground. He held her tight as she sobbed uncontrollably and reached for her baby girl. Carol quickly tired and collapsed into a crumpled heap on the ground, shaking with grief.

Rick slowly walked past the line of shooters with his revolver in hand. Each step seemed to take a lifetime, time obscured by the waking nightmare in front of them. Sophia’s milky eyes locked onto him and she let out a guttural moan. Rick lifted his gun but hesitated as he stared at the little girl he left in the woods nearly a week ago. She reached for him and growled, showing dirty blood coated teeth. Rick pulled the trigger.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Archive warnings of rape/ violence/ non-con apply to this chapter.*

Daryl squeezed the trigger of his crossbow and a squirrel squeaked its last breath. He was spending yet another day in the woods. After Sophia came out of that barn as a walker, he was done. Done with the group, done with the old farmer, done with the whole world. After that, he had packed up his tent and moved to the far end of the field, away from the house and the camp. Most of his days since were spent alone, unbothered by the activities of the others. He would hunt whatever he could and drop off what he didn’t need at the camp just so it felt like he was doing something. However, today was different. 

He had gotten familiar with these woods while looking for Sophia. From time to time he would revisit the gorge he had fallen down, remembering what he survived. The two walkers he had fought were still lying on the wet sandy shore just as he left them, only now they had been half-eaten by scavenging birds and rodents. That gorge was the furthest he had been, until today. Daryl let his mind wander as he sat on a log to gut his catch. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something kept pulling him deeper into the woods. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to return to the farm, just go off on his own like he should have a long time ago. But that thought didn’t sit right with him. It felt too thin, like a lie he told himself but didn’t actually believe. 

The other possibility he considered was that he still had some tiny shred of hope that Mel was alive. It felt just as flimsy as the first thought so he shooed it away as soon as it touched his mind. When Sophia walked out of that barn, Mel might as well have walked out with her. Daryl had gotten a better look at Sophia when they buried her and based on the level of decay, it put her time of death at about a week. Mel had never found her, and even if she did, she was as good as dead. Either that or she must have wised up and gone off on her own. 

Daryl let out a deep sigh. Thinking about what might or might not have happened to Mel wasn’t important. Just like his brother, she was gone and never coming back, simple as that. No use in wasting his time thinking about her or Merle anymore. It didn’t matter why he needed to stay in the woods, only that it felt right. 

After gutting the squirrel, Daryl tied the carcass to his belt and pressed on. He came upon a thin trickle of water barely flowing over a patch of rocks and followed it to the source; a spring in a deep carved out ditch between two hills. Daryl jumped down into the crevasse and filled his canteen. He took several large gulps of the crisp clean water when he heard a faint shouting. Fearing he might have strayed into someone’s camp, he quieted himself and focused on the voices. They sounded like men, at least three from what he could tell, and they were shouting excitedly. The trees filtered out most of the words except for a few syllables and the unmistakable “Wooooo!” of excitement. Were they trying to lead the dead away from something, or to something? Daryl wouldn’t have to wonder for much longer, the voices were getting louder by the second. He swiftly grabbed his crossbow, loaded it with an arrow, and then climbed the ridge. 

Carefully and quietly, Daryl made his way up the incline and behind a tree. With barely more than half an eye peaking around the trunk, Daryl observed the forest. The echoes were starting to sound clearer but he still couldn’t see anyone or make out what they were saying. He moved from tree to tree to maintain cover but it wasn’t until Daryl crested another hill that he finally saw movement. 

A figure was running through the trees but he was too far away and the forest was too dense to see much detail. In the fleeting glances he could capture, he thought it appeared to be a person in a large baggy black t-shirt with no pants or shoes. He followed their progress for a few moments until they dove behind a tree and crouched down. He positioned himself so he could watch them through a clear patch in the vegetation as a second figure ran into view. The new person spun around as if looking for the one who was hiding. They seemed to be in regular clothing from what he could tell and either had a large beard or was wearing a big brown scarf. Daryl watched with anticipation as the second stranger wandered closer to the first hiding behind the tree. He saw the hider slowly pick up a large branch and knew what was coming. As soon as the second person walked past the tree, the branch connected with their face and black shirt took off. 

The man’s shouts were more out of anger than pain as he doubled over, clutching his face. Daryl decided to follow the stranger in black but at a distance. He couldn’t help but wonder how this was going to play out. It couldn’t be good so was he going to intervene? If not, then what was the point of sticking around? As if answering Daryl’s thoughts, the man caught up to black shirt and tackled them to the ground. both landed with their heads facing Daryl, giving him a clear view of the man, who in fact did have a large beard, as he mounted the struggling assailant. 

“You’re gonna pay for that, you fuckin’ bitch!” The man yelled. 

Daryl felt the heat rise in his face as he watched the man pull up on the black shirt to reveal a woman’s naked breasts. He didn’t have a choice anymore, he had to stop this. Daryl took aim but was too far away to make the shot count. The man pinned down the flailing woman’s arms with his knees and unzipped his pants. Daryl did his best to stay quiet as he moved closer to set up a second shot. Just then, he saw a walker come into view behind them. Maybe he didn’t have to take the shot after all. Daryl watched impatiently as the man violently beat off his cock while grabbing at the woman’s exposed breasts. She struggled feebly under the weight of him but had remained surprisingly silent throughout the whole ordeal. The walker shambled closer, attracted by the man’s vulgar grunting. Daryl watched through the sights of his crossbow as the corpse sought them out, ready to pull the trigger in case things didn’t go as planned. 

Thankfully they did. The walker grabbed the man, just as Daryl anticipated, giving the woman an opportunity to get away. She struggled to her feet and ran as the man grappled with the hungry corpse. Unable to get a handle on the walker, he started shouting for help from the others in the area. Daryl hoped there weren’t too many and went after the woman. 

It wasn’t hard to follow her. She kept stumbling over her own feet and ran with the same pace as a fat kid forced to run in gym class. There was a brief moment when he saw an opportunity to show himself but hesitated.

What if this lady was more trouble than she was worth? No matter how many men there were, he would be outnumbered and he wasn’t sure if he was willing to risk his life for this stranger, regardless of how shitty her situation was. Helpless to his own psyche, Daryl was reminded of how Mel tried to save his brother. She risked her life to help someone who she knew was an ass hole but did it anyway because it was the right thing to do. Daryl stepped out from behind the tree that was between him and the woman. He was about to call out to her when one of the men came into view between the trees to his left, making him step back for cover. There were three in total, stomping and tearing at the underbrush like a pack of trolls. If he didn’t try to save this woman soon, he doubted there would be another chance. 

Daryl ran ahead, making sure to stay outside the woman’s view. Once he felt there was enough distance between them, he cut into her path below a hill and waited. He stood with his eyes locked on the top of the hill in anticipation as he listened for her uncoordinated footfalls and labored breathing. Just then, a walker appeared from behind a tree in front of him. It was the heavily decayed corpse of an old man in nothing but torn dirty jeans. It shuffled forward on bare feet, dragging a single rope dry, stiff intestines along the ground. It protruded from a hole in its bloated gut and slowly slid in and out with a wet sucking sound as the left foot stepped on the trailing organ. 

Suddenly, a second body came careening down the hill just as he was taking aim and crashed into the walker. The woman landed on her stomach with the corpse on her back. Just as the walker was about to sink its teeth into her shoulder, Daryl stepped forward and sent an arrow into the back of its head. The thing went limp on top of the woman as she struggled against it. Unable to move the body herself, Daryl quickly bent down and pulled it off of her. The woman turned over and drew away from him, holding one shaking palm up between them in defense.

For a fleeting moment, Daryl thought he was looking at another decayed corpse. As the illusion quickly faded and he could see that the woman was covered in dirt, cuts, scabs, and bruises. Some were fresh, no doubt from being chased through the woods, but some looked to be days or even weeks old. The shirt she wore looked awkward, standing out against her tainted skin and falling off her shoulder, exposing the crease of her armpit. Her legs were bare but she did have on a matching black pair of briefs. They looked just as dirty as she did which led him to believe the shirt wasn’t hers since it was so clean.

The woman’s chest heaved rapidly as she peered through her fingers in panic. Daryl felt the onset of awkward silence so he leaned down with a hand out to help her up. When she looked up at him and their eyes met, all the life drained from his body. The last time he saw those eyes, they were as vibrant and colorful as stained glass. Now as they stared back at him in frantic horror, bloodshot and dull, the colors looked more like sidewalk chalk after a hard rain. Daryl stood up straight and stared in disbelief at Mel who lay crumpled on the ground before him.

Before his brain had fully processed what his eyes were showing him, she scrambled to her feet and attempted to flee. Daryl dropped his weapon and grabbed her arm before she could get away. They struggled for a moment, Daryl repeating, “Mel! It’s me!” until her expression slowly transitioned from fear to realization. Her tense body ceased to resist him and her eyes welled with tears. The dull colors in her irises sparkled in the morning sun as if the light was being drawn into them. Her face went blurry as Daryl’s eyes also started to water. Daryl blinked hard and pulled her into him. She clutched him with all her strength and with a kind of desperation that made Daryl never want to let go. Then the smell hit him. She reeked of filth and rot almost as bad as a walker. For a moment he thought the stench was from the corpse that had landed on her. He pulled away with his hands still holding her arms and looked her over. He was expecting to see some glob of decaying human slime but found something worse. 

Every inch of exposed skin was an angry shade of red from being sunburnt. In the areas untouched by the sun’s radiation, her skin looked pale and sickly under a coat of overlapping layers of dirt like a transparent film. She was clammy and oddly both hot and cold at the same time as if the only heat in her body was from the sunburn. Her short hair stuck out in all directions, thick with grease and leaflitter, but somehow looked longer than he remembered. Her lips were chapped and peeling under the busted lip she sustained from her attacker. There was a large reddish-brown stain splattered across her mouth. The stain trailed down her chin and neck where it transitioned into a red flaky patch that continued below the collar of the shirt. Scabs lined her wrists like bracelets while fresh cuts drew thin red lines over her irritated skin.

She was in bad shape but none of that compared to what he found lurking just under the collar of her shirt. Daryl could see a wet patch in the dark fabric of the shirt concentrated on one spot over her left collar bone. He reached out and carefully pulled the shirt down. Mel flinched and pulled her left hand to her chest. Daryl looked her in the eye, conveying his intent, and she relaxed. The shirt slid up her right shoulder and down over the left one to reveal a large festering gash on her collar bone. It was about three inches long, thick with puss and blood surrounded by a field of irritation that turned her sunburnt skin an impossible shade of red. It stank of infection and oozed a watery mixture of blood and green slime.

The men’s voices broke the silence. They were close, likely just on the other side of the hill. Mel’s head snapped toward the sound with more terror than Daryl had ever seen. He followed her eyes to the crest of the ridge. There he saw the top of a head emerge followed by a forehead then the eyebrows and so on until the man saw them and yelled, “HEY! OVER HERE!” with excitement. Daryl quickly grabbed his crossbow then put himself in front of Mel. He pulled the arrow from the walker’s head and loaded the weapon just in time to aim it at the men as they carefully slid down the hill on their feet.

“Hey, man. Just hold on a sec.” One of them called out to him. It was the man with the large beard that had assaulted Mel. Up close, Daryl could see a cut in the bridge of his nose where she had hit him with the branch. 

Heart pounding, Daryl observed the men with a hunter’s eye. Mel clutched his back and was now tapping frantically on his right shoulder blade. Daryl realized her tapping was in the familiar S.O.S. morse code. Daryl quietly whispered, “It’s okay.”, to her without moving his mouth. 

Dead leaves tumbled down the hill in the men’s wake as they found even ground. They all seemed to be in their late twenties or early thirties from what Daryl could tell. Their pit stained t-shirts and torn jeans were visibly worn and faded as if they haven’t been washed since the outbreak.

“Mind puttin’ the toy down, bud?” Beard said in a condescending tone as he stepped forward with his arms up in surrender. “We’re unarmed.” 

More tapping ensued on his back but in a different pattern. Daryl strained to remember the morse code alphabet he had learned as a kid. After a while he could make out the words “B.A.D” and “K.I.L.L” as she tapped repeatedly. 

“Look, man. We’ve been chasin’ this bitch through the woods all mornin’. I ain’t got the patience for this shit.” Said one of the men wearing a dirty novelty t-shirt. It was a picture of a clock that had mugs of beer instead of numbers with “It’s beer-o-clock” plastered across the bottom in obnoxious cartoon font.

“I’ll... second that.” Wheezed the third man. He was out of breath and sweating noticeably more than the other two, even though Beer-o-clock was the fat one of the bunch. 

Daryl attempted to signal Mel by tapping his thumb against his crossbow. He tapped out “K.N.I.F.E.” slowly and repeatedly, hoping she would catch on.

“Why don’t you put that thing down so we can work this out?” Beard said casually. 

Daryl didn’t move and let the question linger before finally asking, “What ya want with her?” to buy more time. 

“That’s… our business. Now give ‘er here!” Sweaty demanded impatiently, still out of breath.

“Well, hold on now. I said we can work this out.” Beard quieted Sweaty then turned back to Daryl. “A man has needs and I’m sure you’re no exception.” His yellow teeth shone through his bushy mustache like molded corn beneath its own dried silk.

Daryl responded by raising the crossbow higher and flexing his grip on the trigger. He could feel Mel reaching for the knife at his side so he used this opportunity to turn his body so she could grab it without being noticed. He felt her carefully release the strap and slide the blade from its sheath. Armed with his buck knife, Mel balled her fist into the back of his shirt to steady herself for the fight to come.

“Careful there, tiger.” Beard smiled and put his hands up in surrender. “Tell ya what, bud. We will let you in on the fun. What do ya say?” Beard proposed with the fake relaxed attitude of a cliché con artist. 

“I say I’m the one making offers, not a bunch of unarmed dicks.” Daryl growled. 

“Hey man! You don’t know who you’re dealing with!” Yelled Beer-o-clock. 

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Beard scolded him. 

“How ‘bout you three turn ‘round and go back the way ya came.” Daryl spat as Mel tapped “K.I.L.L.” repeatedly in protest.

“Look, in all honesty, she was ours first. But if you want to play tough, fine. We will let you fuck her first.” Beard placed a soft pink hand on his chest to show his sincerity. “Scout’s honor.”

“What the fuck, man! That’s not fair!” Sweaty cried out. 

Beard turned his whole body to face him. “For the last goddamned time, shut the fuuuuUUUUUAAAAAHHH!” He screamed as he fell to the ground grasping at the arrow poking out the front of his thigh. Sweaty and Beer-o-clock gawked at him as he lay screaming on the ground. Daryl rushed Beer-o-clock and struck him across the face with his crossbow, sending the man stumbling to the ground. Beard pulled out a gun from the back of his pants and attempted to shoot Daryl who kicked it out of his hand before a single shot was fired. The handgun went flying and landed somewhere in the pile of dead leaves at the base of the hill. Beer-o-clock went after it, dropping to his knees and frantically sifting through the debris. Daryl used the opportunity to load another arrow. Beer-o-clock took notice and quickly gave up his search to charge at Daryl just as the bow clicked into place. They both tumbled to the ground, the crossbow getting knocked out of his hands. Daryl landed the first punch but left himself open to be hit in the stomach. He saw it coming but only in time enough to flex his abdomen to lessen the blow. Daryl landed another fist in the man’s eye. He stumbled backward, disoriented, so Daryl tackled him to the ground.

As Daryl dealt with Beer-o-clock, Mel focused on Sweaty. He held his arms up, waiting to see what her first move was going to be. She slashed at him and landed one shallow cut across his left forearm. Sweaty recoiled in surprise then lunged at her, using both hands to grab at the knife. Mel struggled to maintain her grip as he worked on prying her fingers open. She tried punching the man with her left hand but the gash on her collar bone sucked all the strength from her. When she realized he was close to freeing the knife from her hand, she jerked her arm and launched the knife several feet away. Sweaty punched her in the face hard enough for Mel to momentarily blackout. When she came to, the man was on top of her with a tight grip on her throat. He squeezed so hard she could feel the blood in her head building pressure and her eyes starting to bulge. Mel beat and clawed at his face feebly with failing weakness until she lost feeling in her arms and they fell limp to her sides. Her vision started to fill with static like on a T.V. screen until it faded to black and she could no longer see.

The pressure suddenly lifted from her throat and Mel gasped loudly for air. She breathed deeply for several seconds before her vision returned and she regained the use of her body. Mel looked up at Sweaty, still on top of her, but now was grabbing at his own neck with a look of horror on his face. Mel stared at him confused until she noticed the arrow. It had gone through the meat of his shoulder and the tip was poking halfway into his throat. Sweaty attempted to push the arrow back through his shoulder but the shaft was too slippery with blood. His struggling only made the cut in his neck bigger which sent bright red globs dripping all over Mel’s face like hot thick tears. 

She blinked in surprise then hardened with intent. Mel reached up and grabbed the end of the arrow still poking out of his shoulder and pushed. Sweaty’s screams turned to gargles as the arrow sank deep in his vulnerable neck. He jerked away from her and attempted to flee by rolling up on his haunches but lost balance and fell on his back. Mel used this opportunity to switch roles and climbed on top of him. His face was red and frantic as blood sprayed from his mouth with every labored breath. Mel grabbed the end of the arrow and swiftly shoved it through his mouth and into his skull. He went limp but Mel kept pushing until she ran out of arrow. The tip reappeared under his eye as it pushed the organ grotesquely to the side of its socket like a lazy eye.

Slowly, Mel rolled to the side and sat on the ground with her legs out. She looked around in a daze. Beard was getting to his feet while Daryl was still in a fistfight with Beer-o-clock. Mel could see they were easily matched and saw Beard looking at Daryl’s crossbow laying feet away. Mel knew if she didn’t do something soon, he would use it on either her or Daryl. Fueled by nothing but adrenalin, Mel looked around for something to use as a weapon. The knife glinted at her from where it had landed on the forest floor. She quickly grabbed it and went after Beard. He saw her coming and readied himself. She swiped at him with the blade but missed which gave him the opportunity to shove her to the ground. Mel landed on a hard root, making her yip with pain. Mel reached down to palm the sharp ache in her hip and realized it wasn’t a root, it was the gun. Mel sifted through the loose leaves until her fingers touched cold hard metal. Beard was loading the crossbow when Mel aimed the gun and shot him in his other leg. He jerked, dropping the bow and fell to the ground screaming in agony. 

Daryl and his opponent recoiled from the sudden report of the weapon. Beer-o-clock recovered first and sucker-punched Daryl in the face. He stumbled and put a hand to his jaw then lunged at the guy, grabbed him by the shoulder, and drove his fist repeatedly into the center of the clock on his stupid shirt. Daryl punctuated the move with an uppercut to the jaw and sent Beer-o-clock falling back on the ground. But Daryl wasn’t done with him. He went in for another assault but this time Beer-o-clock pulled him to the ground where they grappled for several moments. Mel watched as neither man was able to best the other. So she raised the handgun and aimed at Beer-o-clock but Daryl kept straying into her line of fire. With little time to wait, Mel yelled, “DARYL!”. Without hesitation or instruction, Daryl got to his feet and ducked off to the side, giving Mel an opening. Beer-o-clock stood and she emptied the magazine straight into him, blood oozing from 9:30, 11:45, and 1:15. A few shots made it into his head too, tearing part of his skull away above his ear and puncturing a hole in his face about where Marilyn Monroe’s signature mole would be. He stood swaying on the spot with a stupid look of surprise on his face before dropping to the ground like a sandbag. 

Daryl quickly picked up his crossbow before Beard could reach it again and pointed it at his face. 

“No! Please! I’m sorry!” Beard cried. “I can’t walk. Please help me! I’ll bleed out!”

“Shut up!” Daryl yelled. His mind raced with what to do with this prick; interrogate him, torture him, leave him to die? Any of that would be too good for a heap of human garbage like him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mel toss the empty gun aside and slowly struggle to her feet. Daryl watched her with apprehension as she retrieved the knife then proceeded to stagger over to Beard who was looking paler by the minute. 

“No, no, no nonononononono!” Beard cried as she fell on top of him with the knife. He pushed up on her, frantically trying to keep the blade away from his chest. They struggled for several moments, Mel putting her whole weight on top of the knife, bringing it closer but not close enough. She looked back at the arrow poking through his leg. Mel brought her foot up and pushed on the shaft of the arrow. Beard cried out in excruciating pain and his resistance gave just enough for the tip of the knife to pierce his skin. He looked down at it in panic then up at Mel who glared at him with hate as the knife slowly sank into his chest. Mel could feel the blade scrape against his ribs as it sliced into his soft lungs and then the dense muscle of his heart. Beard gasped as the blade slid to its hilt. A low growl started deep in Mel’s throat and grew to a roar as she leaned into him. As her breath expired, she pulled out the knife then plunged it back into him with little resistance on his part until he gave up completely. Screaming with rage, Mel drove the knife in and out of the man’s chest over and over again until she was out of breath and coated in a light spray of blood. With a final push, she thrust the knife into Beard’s forehead, screaming into his dead face with everything she had left. Mel stared into the vacant eyes of her attacker as she came down off the adrenaline high. As soon as she caught her breath, emotion overcame her. Mel crawled off the corpse on all fours, sobbing uncontrollably until she collapsed feet away.

Daryl had watched all this transpire in complete and utter disbelief. She had turned Beard’s chest into hamburger meat, filled Beer-o-clock with led, and Sweaty he noticed was lying in a pool of his own blood. Daryl still had not gotten over the unbelievable fact that she was actually here and it wasn’t just a dream. He slowly walked over to where she lay crying and knelt down beside her. Daryl’s heart ached as he watched her with pitiful desperation. The pain swelled in his chest until it became unbearable. He bent down and took her into his arms, not caring how bad she smelled. Mel clung to him with bloody hands and buried her face in his chest. She sobbed until her body was exhausted and shivering. With shallow breaths, she spoke into his shirt, “Water?”

“It’s over in my bag.” He answered, reluctantly moving away from her and quickly retrieving his bag. She gulped the water greedily to the point of choking. 

“How are you here?” She asked in a quiet voice looking up at him with dull bloodshot eyes.

Daryl shrugged, fighting back the tears making their way back into his eyes. “Pissin’ ‘n’ killin’ walkers.” He smiled but it quickly faded when Mel didn’t react. He swallowed hard, wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist, and asked, “Who were they?” 

Mel caught her breath from drinking and said, “No one.” 

“So no one’s gonna come lookin’ for them?” In response to the shake of her head, he added, “And what ‘bout you?” 

Mel hesitated but before she could answer, the low rasping growl of a walker issued above the hill. Daryl looked up to see four walkers cresting the hill. 

“We should get moving.” He put on his backpack, retrieved his arrows and knife, and then slung the crossbow over his back. 

He helped Mel to her feet but after everything she had been through today; her body was left weak and frail. More walkers could be seen filtering through the trees towards them. The fresh bodies would distract them but they needed to get as far from them as they could. With little time to waste, Daryl put Mel’s good arm around his shoulder and took her in his arms. Her weight was easy to carry but he doubt he could make it all the way back in one go.

Daryl walked at a quick and steady pace, putting distance between them and the walkers. Mel tucked her head under his jaw in the nape of his neck and appeared to have fallen asleep. A thousand thoughts, questions, and emotions bombarded him as they went. He forced his mind to focus on the new and how best to help her. She was dehydrated and probably starving but most concerning was the infected wound on her left collar bone. Having it so close under his nose made the smell harder to ignore. It was a constant reminder that if it wasn’t treated soon, it would mean blood poisoning. 

Before long, he found the same stream he was at when he first heard the voices. He followed the small trickle until it joined with other streams and formed one of the branches of the creek that led to the farm. He walked until he noticed a plant growing at the base of a nearby tree. Daryl stopped dead as he recognized it as one with antibiotic properties. Carefully, he set Mel on the ground and leaned her up against a tree. She moaned as if waking from a deep sleep and opened her heavy eyes to take in their new surroundings. Daryl reassured her then went to harvest the leaves. He filled a pocket on his backpack then shoved a handful into his mouth and started to chew them into a paste. He spat the wad into his hand and knelt in front of her. 

“This’ll help ‘til we can get back.” Daryl explained to her as he slipped the loose t-shirt off her shoulder and started to apply the paste. Mel winced at his touch and drew away before getting used to the pain. “How’d this happen anyway?” The question slipped from his mouth like a neglected toothpick hanging on the edge of his lip. 

“Bit a guy’s dick off.” 

Daryl paused, wondering if he had heard her correctly. He half thought she was making an attempt at humor but her voice was blunt and without emotion. Out of reflex he asked, “You bit a guy’s dick?”

Mel raised her dull eyes to his and she corrected him by repeating, “Off”, then dropped them back to the ground as if the effort was too great. 

Daryl paused again to digest this until he realized he was staring at the large reddish-brown stain again. Where the dried blood peeled away from her skin, it left behind a thin tint of red. The same flaky dye could be found on her legs in smaller patches. Oddly enough, none had gotten on her arms. He stared at the dried blood waiting for her to elaborate but she never did so he left it at that. Details weren't important right now. What they needed to do is get to the farm. He applied the rest of the paste in silence then helped her up so he could carry her again.


	9. Chapter 9

When it was time to get moving again Mel waved Daryl away as he prepared to carry her. The gesture came at such a surprise to him that he paused to stare at her in confusion as she continued to slowly walk next to the stream. Without discussion, Daryl passed her and took the lead. She was slow but consistent and set their pace while Daryl would occasionally scout ahead to make sure there were no surprises.

Every so often, Daryl would call for a break to refresh the leaf paste on Mel’s cut and get a few drinks of water. At this rate, they wouldn’t make it back to the farm for another week. They needed to move faster and the only way to do that was if Mel got the rest she needed. 

The forest’s ambient light slowly evaporated around them as they walked, making it progressively harder for them to see. Knowing they would have to stop soon, Daryl scouted ahead and found a flat clearing next to the stream below one of the ridges. He decided it was as good as any place to camp for the night so he quickly laid out the blanket from his backpack and rand back to meet Mel. It was a steep hill so he put her good arm around his shoulder and held her waist to help her ascend. She was out of breath and could barely lift her legs to climb the hill but Daryl held her tight. Cresting the hill felt like a small victory and the graceful slope of the decent was their sweet reward. 

Daryl led her to the blanket spread out on the soft forest floor. She would have collapsed if Daryl hadn’t helped her to the ground. He gently laid her on the blanket and watched as a breath of relief escaped her. She appeared to have fallen asleep instantly, or more realistically, passed out from exhaustion. With Mel resting, Daryl built a small fire to keep them warm during the night. He cooked the squirrel he had caught that morning and saved some for Mel. 

Daryl spent the rest of the night tending the fire and listening to the voice of the forest for anything out of place. He caught himself staring at Mel on several occasions, feeling a twinge of embarrassment even though there was no one around to judge him. He just couldn’t get over the reality of the situation. Having her sleeping next to the fire with him was like a dream he was afraid to wake up from. His mind buzzed with a million different thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment. Tears brimmed at the edges of his eyes whenever his mind would ensnare him in the blinding reality that Mel was there.

The next thing he knew, birds were singing and the veil of night had started to lift. Daryl didn’t remember falling asleep and the sudden realization jolted him awake. He sat up quickly and looked at Mel who, to his relief was still fast asleep where he left her. Daryl relaxed and let the rest of him wake up naturally. Eventually he stood and stretched, wincing at the sharp pains of the previous day’s encounter. After a quick piss, he added more wood on the fire. He heated the other half of the squirrel in case Mel woke up and wanted to eat but by that evening, Mel was still asleep. At this point, the surrealism of her presence wore off enough that Daryl started to worry. The fact that she hadn’t moved since the moment she laid down started to concern him. If it were not for the consistent rise and fall of her breathing, he would have thought she was dead. Indeed, at times her breathing was so slow that he thought she had died and he would stare at her with strained concentration only to see her chest rise again several seconds later. It was a torture he never knew existed. He decided that if she didn’t wake by nightfall, he would carry her the rest of the way back without stopping. 

To keep his mind occupied, Daryl started digging a well for fresh water then went hunting nearby. He caught four squirrels all while keeping Mel in his line of sight and had them roasting over the fire an hour later. By the time the meat was done cooking, Mel finally moved again. Daryl’s heart leaped into his throat as she started to adjust her arms and legs in the beginning stages of waking. He went to the well he dug, filled his water bottle, then sat by her feet on a corner of the blanket. He saw her tired eyes open, still the color of a muddy rainbow. She looked up at him and gasped loudly then jerked back as if to flee but was stricken with pain from her cut. With a grunt she grabbed at the wound and fell back onto the blanket with her eyes clamped shut. 

Daryl held his hands up and leaned back from her to show he wasn’t a threat and said, “It’s just me!” 

Mel relaxed and sighed as the pain dissipated. She rubbed her face with her right hand then slowly rolled to her side and sat up.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Daryl apologized but Mel only nodded. “Thirsty?” He asked and held out the water bottle with dirty hands studded with scabbed knuckles. Mel accepted the bottle and took a long drink that left her breathless. “I got squirrel when y’re ready.” He added. Mel nodded so Daryl brought over one of the smoked carcasses. She devoured it in record time.

Eager to get moving again, Daryl stomped out what was left of the fire and packed his things as Mel finished eating a second squirrel. She slowly got to her feet and stretched her stiff body while letting out a loud groan. 

“Feel like ya got hit by a bus, huh?” Daryl asked, looking her over from a distance. In response to the nod of her head he added, “Me too. That prick had a mean right hook, I’ll give ‘em that.” He said rather nonchalantly while rubbing the side of his face with no reaction on Mel’s part. “We should put more paste on b’fore we get goin’.” Daryl said, still with no reaction from her. After the leaf paste was applied, Daryl let out a shallow sigh and shrugged on his backpack. “Ready to get goin’?” He asked. This time Mel nodded. It lacked conviction but it was better than nothing. 

They traveled in silence, stopping briefly every few hours to apply fresh leaf paste to Mel's wound. She didn’t look it, but Mel seemed to be doing better. Her pace was faster than the previous day, she was able to stand and sit on her own but she still needed help with climbing the hills. 

By twilight they found another place to camp by the stream. Most of the night was spent with Mel and Daryl on opposite sides of the fire staring at the flames in silence. The mystery surrounding Mel's disappearance had been gnawing Daryl to the bone since the first night she was gone. Yet now that he finally had the chance to ask her what happened, he couldn't bring himself to do it. It felt wrong somehow, like asking a combat veteran if they killed anyone in war. 

As night went on, Daryl eventually gave into his tired body. “Ya gonna stay up?” He asked. Mel nodded without taking her eyes off the fire. “Let me know if ya need anythin’.” He added then laid down with his back to the fire. 

Now that he actually wanted to fall asleep, his body refused it. Hours passed as he laid with his eyes closed and his mind wide awake. Just when he was about to give up, he heard the soft gasps of muffled sobs. Daryl turned over to see Mel's face wet with fresh tears. She quickly wiped them away when she saw Daryl looking at her.

“What's wrong?” He asked, slowly raising himself on one elbow but Mel avoided his eyes. Daryl sat up and asked, “Ya wanna talk ‘bout it?”, but Mel just shook her head.

He sighed heavily and rubbed each eye with the palm of his hand. He sat up and observed Mel from across the small fire. Her face was as still as stone but her multi-colored eyes were wet and puffy from crying. Her left hand was balled into a tight fist and pulled close to her body like a wounded animal. 

“Is your cut hurtin’?” He asked. After a long pause, Mel nodded.

Daryl leaned over to grab his backpack and rummaged through it, eventually pulling out a small plastic bag. He filled a small rectangular paper with pinched wads from the bag and rolled a perfect uniform stick that resembled a cigarette. 

“Ya ever smoke pot b'fore?” He asked Mel as he walked over to her with the joint hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“Just socially.” Mel shrugged with her good shoulder. Daryl lit the stick then sat next to her on the blanket and nursed the cherry before holding it out to her with his thumb and forefinger.

“This shit’ll make ya numb inside and out.” Daryl said, releasing the smoke from his lungs as he spoke.

Mel took a hit and held it for as long as she could. When she let go, a large plume of smoke billowed from her mouth and disappeared above them. She coughed, cursing from the electric pain shooting out from her wound.

“Ya okay?” Daryl asked with concern. 

Mel nodded with her eyes clamped shut trying to control the pain. Daryl grabbed the water bottle and handed it to her. The need to cough dissipated as she drank.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I should have warned ya. Merel's own special brand.” Daryl said, taking the joint back. He took a long drag then released his breath and looked at the glowing ember. “If there was anythin’ Merel was good at, it was growin’ good dope.” Daryl smiled and handed it back to her. “He called it ‘chupacabra’.”

“Dumb name.” Mel said flatly in a hoarse voice, taking the joint between her thumb and index finger. This time she took a smaller hit, one that she could better control and not make her cough as much. 

“He only named it that ‘cause I saw one the first time we tried it.” Daryl continued. “We was out huntin’ squirrels when I saw it run through the trees. I thought it was just a coincidence but Merel jumped all over it, sayin’ his dope can summon a chupacabra.” Daryl reminisced. He remembered what Merle had said about the shrooms being involved but that was beside the point.

“They aren’t real.” Mel added. 

“I know what I saw.” He said with calm confidence then took the joint back from her. 

Mel attempted to reposition herself and cringed from the burning pain on her collarbone. A small cry escaped her, catching Daryl’s attention. He leaned in close to observe the wound but noticed her jerk back from him. It was a small reaction that most people would probably overlook but Daryl saw it for what it was and it would come to bother him for the next few days. 

“Yer gon’ need stitches when we get back.” He commented and leaned back to his original position. 

“The road?” Mel asked and took her turn on the joint. 

“Nah, we found a farm. Family still livin’ there and everythin’. Old man that owns it is a doctor.” 

“That’s lucky.” She paused then added as an afterthought, “Is everyone okay?” 

“For the most part.” Daryl shrugged and took the joint back. “Carl got shot. That's how we found the place. One of their people was out huntin’. Bullet went right through the deer and into the kid.”

“That’s fucked.” She cursed with earnest.

“He’s still alive but the guy that shot him ain’t.” Daryl held out the joint to her but she put up her hand. 

“What about T?” She asked.

“He’s good. Doc fixed ‘em up.” As an afterthought he added, “Lori is pregnant.” In response to Mel’s scoff, he added with a smile, “Figured you'd like that one.” 

“She's a real fuckin piece of work.”

Daryl laughed and took a long drag, letting it out slowly. For a while he stared at the joint held loosely between his fingers as if in deep thought. The occasional pop of the fire filled the silence left behind. 

“She, uh. Well, there’s abortion pills if ya need ‘em.” Daryl said so fast and quiet he wasn’t even sure if they were words. 

“Oh. No, they didn’t… Uh, I mean, I don’t think…” Mel trailed off uncomfortably. She let out an awkward dry cough. “I can’t anyway.” She glanced at Daryl who looked slightly confused so she added, “Get pregnant I mean. Perks of joining medical.” She attempted a weak sarcastic smile but her dark humor seemed to be lost on him.

“Sorry.” Was all he could muster in the thin air of the uncomfortable conversation. He took another long drag then said unexpectedly, “We found Sophia.”

Mel stiffened and looked at him with confused surprise, “H-how...wh-wh-where?” She stammered.

“The people at the farm were keepin’ walkers in their barn. Sophia was one of ‘em.” Daryl said solemnly. 

“What?” Mel gasped with bewilderment then looked at the ground.

“Ya know that creek Rick told her to follow?” Daryl asked. Mel looked up at him with concern and nodded. “Same creek runs by the farm. Walkers were gettin’ stuck in the mud.” He took another hit then tried to offer it to Mel again but she was lost in thought.

“We must have been so close.” Mel mumbled absentmindedly.

“Yeah. Always seemed to be one step b’hind her.” Daryl sighed. 

“No.” Mel said in the same distant voice. 

“What?” Daryl asked, confused. 

Realizing what she had said, Mel looked up at him with fear in her eyes that quickly turned to embarrassment before she looked away. Mel fidgeted and glanced everywhere but at Daryl as if searching for the right words to say. Eventually she started to say something then stopped before the words could get out. She did this several more times before she sighed out of frustration, closed her eyes and finally said, “I found Sophia too.” She paused to look at Daryl and added, “Alive.”

Daryl stared at her in disbelief. Mel’s rainbow eyes filled with tears painted molten lava by the fire. She looked away just before they could spill onto her cheeks. The drugs in Mel’s system lubricated her faculties, making her continue on like a confession. 

“It was too late. There was nothing I could do. I stayed with her until she was gone so she wouldn’t have to die alone.” Her voice started to pinch off and she had to stop to collect herself. 

“Why’d ya let her turn?” Daryl regretted his words as soon as they slipped from his mouth.

Mel slowly looked up at him with pain in her eyes. “You think I’d leave her like that on purpose?” Daryl said nothing and looked at the ground so she continued, “I didn’t have a choice. If I did, I’d never have left her to turn.”

“So what happened?” Daryl asked, sounding more indifferent than he would have liked.

“I….” Mel swallowed hard and sighed. “It has to do with this.” She gestured to the gash on her collarbone.

Daryl looked at her, expecting there to be more. Instead, Mel looked up at him with her glassy opal eyes. The way they were catching the light transformed them into a kaleidoscope colors. The flames danced in them like they had a fire all their own, threatening to hypnotize him if he wasn’t careful.

“Don’t say anything to them.” She whispered. “Especially Carol.” There was urgency in her voice as she wiped the tears away.

“They’re gonna wanna know what happened.” Daryl said with slight confusion.

“Please.” She begged through watery eyes. “I can’t talk about Sophia, if I do I have to talk about the rest of it and I can’t. I won’t. I’ve lived through it once already. I’m not doing it again.”

“Alright.” He said earnestly. After a long pause he added. “If ya ever do wanna talk ‘bout it,” He trailed off.

Mel nodded without looking at him. They sat together watching the fire in silence as two owls called to each other through the trees. Eventually Mel laid back down and fell asleep. Daryl wasn’t far behind her.

At sunrise they continued on their journey. Daryl noticed Mel’s pace was faster than it had been. Still, he made frequent stops to change out the paste on her wound. He also made sure they had a good supply of fresh water to stay hydrated, Mel especially. She remained quiet the rest of their trip and only responded with gestures rather than words. By nightfall he could sense that they were getting close. They camped in a grassy clearing for the night and smoked more weed. She cried again that night but only when she thought Daryl was asleep. He found it difficult not to console her but at the same time knew she needed space. 

They headed out early the next morning at dawn. Before long, Daryl started to recognize the trees and the slope of the land. They were close to the steep ridge he had fallen down and made sure to give it a wide berth until he was back on the trial again. He knew that path back to the farm well and by noon they could see the open fields between the thinning trees. As they neared the tree line, the large white farmhouse glowed in the evening sun like a shining beacon. 

“Jesus.” Mel cursed under her breath. Daryl looked back at her with a confused expression so she added, “When you said you found a farm, I didn’t think you meant an actual fucking farm.”

Daryl smiled and walked out of the tree line but Mel didn’t follow. He turned to see what was keeping her and saw worry painted on her face as she looked from the farm to him. 

“Ya okay?” Daryl asked. Mel sighed and looked at her feet so he thought a moment then said, “Follow me.”

He came back into the trees and walked along the property line. They followed the border until they came to his camp away from the others. He had his tent set up under a few trees with a small fire pit, a stump for a chair, and the same crappy looking motorcycle Mel remembered so well. Daryl helped her to sit down and gave her more water and a granola bar he had in his tent. 

“I’m gonna get the doctor.” He told her and quickly brought the motorcycle to life and sped off toward the farmhouse. 

Upon Daryl’s approach to the house, he could see the others eyeing him up. Rick came out of the farmhouse in his usual determined stride but with a look of surprise. Daryl parked the bike next to the steps and met him on the porch.

“Where’s the old guy?” Daryl asked.

“Hershel’s inside.” Rick said distractedly. As Daryl moved past him he asked, “Daryl, where have you been? You’ve been gone for days.” 

Daryl paused at the door to answer him. “I found Mel.” 

The color drained from Rick’s face as he stared at Daryl with disbelief. He looked at the ground as the words sank in. “You found Mel.” Rick repeated. He said each word carefully as if tasting them.

“She’s in rough shape.” Daryl said in a low voice only Rick would be able to hear. By now the others were taking notice and starting to gather at the edge of camp. He didn’t like the feeling of advertising Mel’s return, so he went inside to look for the doctor. Rick hesitated a moment then followed him.

“What do you mean?” He asked. “Where was she? Is she okay?”

Daryl ignored him and stormed through the house to find Hershel at the dining room table reading his bible. The old man acknowledged the two men considerately but with a look that asked ‘what is it this time’. 

“I got a new patient for ya.” Daryl told him.

Rick caught up and asked, “Where is she now? Daryl, answer me.” 

Suddenly T-dog rushed into the farmhouse. “Hey! Where’s Mel? Is she okay?” He demanded, out of breath. Clearly the news of her return had spread throughout the entire camp already.

“What is this about?” Hershel asked impatiently.

“Mel’s at my tent.” Daryl explained, “She’s got a nasty cut. Looks infected, pro’lly needs stitches.”

“Now, I thought we were done with this.” Hershel spoke with an edge to his tone that cut like a knife. “My home is not a walk-in clinic.” 

“I wasn’t givin’ ya a damn choice!” Daryl yelled. “Ya best get out there and help her or…”

“Or what?” Hershel said sternly in a raised voice. 

“Alright let’s just calm down.” Rick commanded, putting his hands up between the two men. He turned to Hershel and said. “I know we ask a lot of you. But Mel is one of ours. She went looking for Sophia the day she went missing. She’s been out there by herself this entire time. It’s a miracle she’s even alive.”

Hershel sighed heavily and gave Rick a warning glare. “If the wound has festered then it will need to be cleaned before being stitched up. She will likely also need antibiotics to prevent the infection from entering her blood stream if it hasn’t already.” He turned to Maggie who had been washing dishes until the men walked in. “Can you get me some clean towels, a wash pan, soap, and my suture kit, please?”

His daughter nodded and left with haste to gather the items. The old man closed his bible and took his time getting to his feet. “Go ahead and bring her in. The bedroom down the hall should do.”

“Naw, ya gotta come out to her.” Daryl said, ignoring the men’s confused looks.

“On top of everything else, I’ve got to make house calls?” Hershel said with sarcasm. “No. She can come here if she wants to be treated.” He was about to sit back down and return to his bible when Daryl pounded his fist on the table hard enough to make Hershel’s glass of water jump slightly to the left.

“She’s been through hell to get here and ya won’t take the time to see her?” Daryl yelled. “I found her half naked covered in shit bein’ chased by some ass holes tryin’ to rape her. So if ya won’t go out there then I’ll drag ya my damn self!” Daryl yelled with anger.

Rick and T-dog pulled Daryl into the living room away from Hershel. Eventually he calmed down enough to be set free. Daryl breathed heavily though his nose as he adjusted his shirt. Everyone looked uncomfortable as Daryl’s words echoed through the old farm house. Maggie stood in the doorway holding a basket of the items Hershel asked for with a look of shocked concern on her face. 

Daryl continued to glare at Hershel who was taking a moment to think the situation over. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rick lower his gaze to the floor with his hands on his waistband. T-dog rubbed his bald head and stared at him with the same look of shock and disgust. 

“I’ll help your friend. But if you raise your voice to me again in my own home, you will no longer be welcome in it. Understand?” He said sternly. 

“Whatever. Jus’ hurry up.” Daryl grumbled and walked outside. 

T-dog followed him out while Rick stayed behind. 

“What do you mean she was being chased?” T asked.

Daryl walked quickly down the stairs and glanced at the others in camp who were obviously listening. He ignored their curious stares and T-dog’s questions as he mounted his bike. At that moment Rick exited the house looking like he had just given blood. He ran down the stairs to them and looked at Daryl with fire in his eyes. “Tell me everything.” He demanded.

In a low voice, Daryl provided them with a recap of how he found Mel. Afterwards he added, “I dunno what happened to her before.”

“What? Why not?” T-dog exclaimed. 

“I didn’t think to ask.” Daryl said with sarcasm. At the confused stammering of T-dog, he added, “O’course I did, dumb ass. She don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.” Then started backing up his bike.

“I’m sure she’ll come around.” Rick said with assurance. In response to Daryl’s grunt, he added, “She just needs time. I’ll come talk to her.”

“Naw. She don’t wanna be ‘round nobody. Not yet.”

Rick looked at the ground as if Daryl’s words wounded him. “Well, it’s like you said, Mel’s been through a lot. Give her time to heal. I’ll let everyone know to stay clear of your camp for a while but I’d like it if you’d keep me updated.” He punctuated his words with a clap to Daryl’s shoulder.

Daryl nodded then looked up to see Hershel and Maggie coming out of the house. They followed Daryl in their truck as he led them to his camp. They found Mel sitting on the ground with her head resting on the stump Daryl had set her on. She looked pitiful in the light of the day all crumpled on the ground covered in dirt and blood. She opened her eyes and slowly got to her feet as they approached. To Daryl’s surprise, Mel stood upright and held out a hand to Hershel. 

“Hello, Sir. I’m Mel. Thank you for seeing me.” Mel struggled to say. 

Daryl glanced at the farmer and his daughter. They looked equally surprised as he was but it was likely due to how she looked rather than acted. Hershel took her hand in two of his and said, “Hershel. And this is my daughter, Maggie. I appreciate your formality, Mel, but you really should be sitting down. Your friend here seems to have underestimated your condition.” He helped her to sit on the stump and examined her wound. He turned to Maggie and said, “Dear, could you run back to the house and get that spud brush from under the sink, please? And grab Beth and Patricia, too. We may need their help.”

Maggie got back in the truck and took off toward the house. Hershel adjusted Mel’s shirt to expose more of the shoulder and chest. “When did this happen?”

Mel closed her eyes and crinkled her face as she searched her thoughts. “I don’t remember.”

“I found her three days ago. It was bad then.” Daryl spoke up.

“What is this?” Hershel asked, picking at the dried plant paste on her skin.

“Plant that helps with infections.” Daryl answered.

“A spear leaf plant? Blooms purple flowers in spring and summer?” Hershel stood to look at him. 

“Yeah. Ya chew it up and put it on a couple times a day.” He shrugged.

Hershel rubbed his hands together. “Well, son, I’m impressed. You likely saved your friend’s life. The wound is in the beginning stages of gangrene which is a miracle given how long ago it happened. Bad news is it still needs to be thoroughly cleaned out before I can stitch it up. It won’t be pretty and it will hurt.”

“I got somethin’ for that.” Daryl said and disappeared inside his tent. He emerged with Merle’s large bag of drugs. He rummaged through the plastic Ziploc, pills clancking inside their plastic containers, and eventually pulled out a small orange bottle. “T-dog took the good ones, but this should work just fine.”

Hershel intercepted the bottle and inspected the label. “This won’t do. It will interfere with the antibiotics she needs.” He said, handing the bottle back to Daryl.

“Can she at least have a stiff drink?” Daryl asked with a clear attitude. 

“Afraid not. Besides, she’s in dire need of fluids. Any type of alcohol will dehydrate her even more.”

It was then that Maggie came back with Beth and Patricia. The youngest carried the brush on top of a stack of clothes. When she saw Mel, she froze and stared wide eyed at Mel like she was some wild animal. Maggie took the clothes from her and put a hand on her shoulder to snap her out of it. She set the clothes down in the grass at the base of the tree and handed her dad the brush. 

“I brought some extra clothes of mine. If they don’t fit, just set them on the porch.” Maggie said to Mel, gesturing at the pile. Mel looked up at her and nodded. 

Hershel set up the wash pan, soap, towels, and brush beside Mel. Before he started, he walked over to one of the trees in Daryl’s camp. He searched the ground a moment and picked up a thick stick. He broke it on his knee and kept a piece about ten inches long then came back over and handed it to Mel.

“This is the best I’ve got for you, dear.” He said regretfully. 

Mel looked at the stick with contempt. She sighed as she took it and placed it in her mouth. Maggie stood by with the soapy dish pan. Hershel soaked the brush and started to scrub the infected gash on Mel’s collarbone.


	10. Chapter 10

Cleaning Mel’s wound seemed to last hours. It was the worst pain she had ever felt in her life, including getting cut in the first place. The whole left side of her chest and shoulder burned but with a subtle layer of stinging concentrated on her cut. The stiff bristles of the brush dug deep into her ragged flesh as Hershel peeled away the layers of caked blood and dirt. With each stroke Mel cried out through clenched teeth biting into the stick and dug her fingernails. She struggled with herself to resist the urge to pull away from the brush. Eventually, it became too much. 

Once the scabs were peeled away, even the air seemed to inflict pain on her exposed lesion. Mel knew it was only going to get worse from here and hoped her skin would go numb before the pain became too great. In slow motion, Mel watched Hershel’s hand raise with the spud brush dripping with fresh soap, the bristles looking like sharpened needles. Mel prepared herself for the pain but the moment the first bristle stabbed her stinging flesh, all resolve crumbled to pieces. She jerked back from Hershel, nearly falling off the stump and almost kicking Beth who was holding the wash bin for her dad. The young girl quickly moved out of the way but spilled soapy water on herself in the process. The old farmer waited patiently for her to collect herself before trying again. The second try was just as successful as the first. This time Mel put her hand up to him and shook her head. 

“I know this is painful but if I don’t get all the puss out it will get re-infected and we will have to do this again.” Hershel explained calmly. 

Mel’s blood shot eyes stared vacantly at the ground as she caught her breath. Eventually she sat back up and let the brush near her again. Mel grunted and doubled over as Hershel started scrubbing the wound. She could only stand a few seconds of the sharp pain before grabbing his wrist to make him stop. Hershel had no choice but to enlist Maggie and Patricia. Daryl stood by, fidgeting with distress as the women held Mel in place. After a few minutes of whimpering and squirming in pain, Mel spat out the stick and begged them to stop. 

“Lets finish tomorrow, please.” “Stop for fuck’s sake! Can’t you see it fucking hurts?” “Fuck off and finish later, please!” She cursed in vein as Hershel meticulously cleaned the cut. 

Mel’s thrashing became so great that the women could no longer keep her still. Every jerk of her body threatened to throw them off so Daryl decided to step in. He took over for Patricia who had Mel’s right arm and knelt beside her, taking Mel into an offset embrace. Mel gripped him with surprising strength and buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her cries. Maggie still had to hold Mel’s left arm to keep her from moving but Daryl held the rest of her in place until the job was done.

After the wound was clean, Mel relaxed and they were able to release her. As Hershel sewed her up, she could barely feel the needle poking in and out of her skin through the numbing ache that lingered behind. Mel looked down when Hershel finished and saw that her wound was smaller than she thought. In her mind, along ragged gash split her skin from the middle of her chest to just above her shoulder. What she saw was a three inch straight stitch lying diagonally across her collarbone. 

“Do your best to keep this dry.” Hershel explained as he bandaged her fresh stitches. “In a few days you can take this off. Take two of these in the morning and at night with meals for the next week.” He said, handing her a small white bottle of pills.

“You can wash up in the house if you’d like.” Maggie offered, glaring at her dad for not offering first.

Mel nodded without lifting her eyes from the ground. With that, Hershel, Maggie, Beth, and Patricia loaded into the truck and went back to the house. Daryl watched them leave then promptly went to his backpack and pulled out his bag of weed.

"I don't give a shit what he says, smoke ain't gonna hurt nothin'." He said as he packed a bowl. He lit the bud, took a few hits, then handed it and the lighter to Mel. She took both with her good arm.

"I'm gonna go find somethin' to eat. I'll stay close so if ya need anythin' just shout." He added.

Mel nodded and hit the bowl, holding it with her bad arm and lighting it with her good one. Daryl lingered a moment before he took up his bow and headed into the woods. Mel hit the bowl again but with some extra breaths to push the smoke deeper into her lungs. When she let her breath go, the air around her seemed to become viscous and heavy. She knew she was sitting on the stump but could no longer feel it, like she was suspended underwater. The best thing was that the stabbing and burning pain of her fresh stitches seemed far away and no longer bothersome. Mel couldn't remember a time when she felt so relaxed.

As the sun began to set, Mel retreated to Daryl's tent and eased herself onto his soft sleeping bag. Her head melted into the coolness of his pillow while Daryl's scent enveloped her like a warm embrace. She breathed in deep, getting high on his smell and before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep. 

The sky was dark and dusted with stars when Mel woke. She looked out the open door of the tent to see Daryl sitting on the ground in front of the fire. He sat with his knees to his chest watching two small animal carcasses skewered over the flames. Mel watched him flip the meat over, admiring his form in the orange light. 

Eventually she left the comforts of the tent and joined him in the silence. They shared glances but let the fire do all the talking as it prepared their dinner. After their meal they continued to listen to the fire hiss and crackle as the insects and animals started their own conversations. After a while Mel broke the silence.

"Where did you get that water?" Mel asked quietly, gesturing to the water bottle by his feet.

"Ya thirsty?" Daryl said grabbing the bottle.

"I was thinking of cleaning up." Mel shook her head.

"Go to the house like they said." 

Mel shrugged with her good shoulder. “I don’t want to bother them this late.” 

“They got a well pump next to the house.” Daryl suggested, pointing towards the left side of the farmhouse.

She followed his direction but only saw a small flickering point of light that was the campfire from the rest of their group. Regardless, she took her time standing up and shuffled over to the pile of clothes left by the farmer's daughter. She picked up the pile of clothes with her good arm and clamped them to her chest with her injured arm. She started to walk toward the farmhouse when Daryl stopped her. 

"Here, get on." He said gesturing to the motorcycle.

Mel eased her stiff body onto the seat of the bike while Daryl kept it steady. He then folded the kickstand up with his foot and put both hands on the handles to push Mel toward the house. Daryl rolled the bike through the dark over the tall grass, making a soft “husshhh” sound as they went. The speck of fire from the other’s camp slowly grew as they approached. Out of the darkness, the tents and cars came into view as black silhouettes and the closer they got, figures began to appear. Closer still, they could see T-dog, Carol, and Andrea sitting within a ring of chairs orbiting the fire. Remembering Mel didn’t want to reunite with the others right away, Daryl rolled the bike just out of reach of the campfire's light. 

The well pump came into view alongside the farmhouse, dimly lit by the firelight. Daryl parked the bike between the pump and the direction of the camp to create a sense of privacy for Mel. He pushed the kickstand down with his foot and Mel wavered as the motorcycle sank to its side before coming to rest. She slid off and set the stack of clothes on the seat as Daryl filled a nearby bucket with water. 

"Shit." Mel cursed. "I forgot soap."

"Hang on." Daryl said and headed toward the camp in front of the house.

The trio at the campfire looked up as he approached. 

"Hey, how’s Mel?” T-dog asked with enthusiasm. He sat up straight in his chair and leaned forward.

"She’s fine. I need soap.” Daryl answered curtly.

“That’s good to hear. Where is she?”

“She don’t want to see nobody. Ya got soap or not?"

"That so? Why don’t I go ask her myself then?" T-dog said in a threatening tone. 

“She’ll come ‘round when she’s ready, now give me some fuckin’ soap.” Daryl snapped.

“So concerned about soap.” T scoffed and leaned back in his seat. Under his breath he mumbled, “Nigga ain’t even shower before the apocalypse.” 

“The fuck you say?” Daryl took an aggressive step forward.

"I have some." Carol said loudly to defuse the situation and quickly went to her tent.

"We heard Mel was in really bad shape.” Andrea spoke up. “Was Hershel able to help her?"

Daryl nodded and shrugged. Not wanting to answer a bunch of questions, he crossed his arms and brought one hand up to his mouth. 

"Yeah, Glenn said Maggie thought she was in worst shape than you was with that arrow in your side. Is that true?" T added with concern in his voice.

Daryl took his hand away from his mouth. "Doc took care of her. She'll be fine." 

"Man, I hope so." T-dog sighed. "After what happened to," He caught himself and glanced in Carol's direction with embarrassment, "Well, ya know.”

Just then, Carol appeared from the dark of her tent with a handful of items. She gave them to Daryl with a warm smile and said, “Tell her to keep them.” 

Daryl gave her a double take, wondering how she knew the soap was for Mel. Not wanting to give it much thought, he nodded and quickly turned to leave.

The cool night air drained the heat from Daryl’s back as he walked further from the fire. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dark and he easily found his way back to Mel. She was using her good arm to wet her face while she kept her other arm tight against her abdomen. He set Carol's things down on top of the pile of clothes on the bike’s seat and took a few steps back but didn’t leave.

“Thanks.” Mel mumbled as she came to the bike and picked out the items she needed. 

Daryl let out a soft grunt in return then continued to linger awkwardly for a while as she wet the washcloth and soap. When he realized what he was doing, he quickly thought of something to distract from the awkwardness that was brewing. 

"I'm gonna be by the house. If ya need anythin' just flip this switch here." He said and flicked the bike's front light on and off. Its yellow bulb lit up the wrap around porch in a flash before plunging them back into darkness. The image momentarily burnt into their eyes. 

Mel stepped forward and made sure she knew which switch it was then nodded and returned to the pale. She struggled to sit on the ground, nearly falling but recovered her balance by sticking out her legs as she landed on her behind. Daryl watched her a moment longer, wishing he could do more to help, then reluctantly retreated to the large wooden steps of the farmhouse. 

Some time passed when he noticed one of the figures around the fire was approaching. He recognized Carol's petite silhouette against the radiating light and felt a tension dissipate that he didn’t even know was there.

"Hi." Her voice was quiet and soft as always. "May I sit with you?"

Daryl shrugged so she sat on the same step next to him. He could see her better now that she was facing the firefight. She looked tired, which wasn't a surprise, and she was holding a hardcover book without its slip. 

"Is Mel really okay?" She asked with concern in her voice that matched her face.

Daryl hesitated. With anyone else he would have said anything to dismiss them. For some reason he couldn't do that with Carol. He could feel the doubts he had kept hidden since Mel’s disappearance come surging to the surface. He glanced at her then quickly looked out into the dark where he knew Mel was. He could sense Carol staring at him, intently waiting for him to answer. He looked at his feet and sighed deeply.

"I don’t know.”

"I overheard Rick telling Lori how you found her. They sounded like horrible people. I'm scared to think what would have happened if you hadn't been there."

Daryl nodded his head slowly and clenched his jaw as he recalled the terror in Mel's eyes. 

"That's part of the reason I came over here, actually." Carol said opening the book in her lap and flipping through until it stopped on something stuck between the pages. Carol carefully lifted it and held it out to Daryl. It was the Cherokee rose he had given her. Only now it was dried and flattened to preservation. 

"All this time.” She continued, “I think these were meant for her instead of Sophia."

Daryl stared at the rigid flower, its white petals painted orange from the distant firelight. "Ain't nothin' but an ol' wives tale."

“It's what kept you searching, wasn’t it?” She said earnestly, still holding out the flower. “You can’t tell me you left camp all that time just because you had nothing better to do.” 

“Those were for mothers who lost children.” 

“If you don’t believe in them then it shouldn’t matter.” She smirked. “Why can’t they be for someone you care for?” 

“Seems like they’re more useful as bookmarks to me.” Daryl said, hoping it was dark enough to hide the redness he felt in his cheeks.

Carol dropped her arm with disappointment. “Well, alright then.” She said as she stuck the dried flower back into her book. After a few moments Carol added, “Don’t worry. She’ll come around. Just give her some time.” She smiled and put a hand on his shoulder before getting up and heading back into camp. 

Daryl sat alone in the dark for the next hour until Mel signaled with the motorcycle’s headlight. When he found her in the dark the soiled black t-shirt was gone and she was wearing a long sleeved light blue button down shirt over a tight white tank top, bluejeans, and a pair of brown cowboy boots. The shirt could only button over her stomach due to her large chest barely contained within the tank top. Daryl could feel the heat rise in his face again as he admired her new outfit. Thankfully he broke the spell just in time for her to get back on the bike. 

Mel remained silent as Daryl pushed her back to their camp. Once there, he packed a bowl and took a few hits before handing it to Mel. She took the pipe without a word and filled her lungs with the smoke. As the drugs took over, Daryl found it increasingly difficult to take his eyes off of Mel. It didn’t take long for her to notice. 

“What? Is the outfit okay?” She asked quietly with embarrassment, pulling on the bottom of the blue button down shirt. 

“It’s nothin’” He grumbled and forced his eyes on his feet.

Mel finished the bowl and they continued to sit quietly around the fire listening to the night. A long-winded toad sang loudly nearby as a light breeze brushed the sweet cool air through the trees. Mel took a deep breath, let her head fall back, and closed her eyes. After a moment she opened them and looked at the stars peppering the night sky. 

“I never thought I’d be here.” She said quietly, looking back at the fire.

Daryl paused before answering. “What ya mean?”

“Here.” Mel emphasized with a single nod and stared intently at him until he understood.

At first he thought she meant “here” as in the end of days but the look in her rainbow eyes said something else. Suddenly it clicked. She was talking about being here, with him. Daryl couldn’t help but think of his brush with death the week before. He looked away and added with a sigh, “Me too.” 

After a few moments of silence, he looked up to see Mel still staring at him with a light veil of confusion over her face. Daryl turned his head to show her the missing chunk in the top of his ear and said, “Lucky for me, Andrea's shit with a rifle.” When he looked back, Mel’s face was contorted with concern so he added, “Get a little dirt ‘n’ blood on ya and everyone thinks yer a walker.” 

Mel’s gaze drifted to the flames, her eyes catching the light and sparkling like rhinestones. In a near whisper she said, “I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” Daryl echoed quietly and they fell back into silence for the rest of the night.


	11. Chapter 11

Mel woke in Daryl’s tent feeling sore but rested. The previous night ended in a silent battle of who would fall asleep first, the looser having to take the tent while the winner slept outside. A battle of suborn pointlessness. Mel knew Daryl would never take the tent over her but she felt awkward all the same. She did her best to outlast him but in the end the weed tipped her levels of exhaustion over the edge and she retreated to the tent in defeat. 

Mel stretched her sore muscles under the soft confines of Daryl’s sleeping bag, inhaling his earthy scent that escaped the fabric. She winced as the pain in her left shoulder announced itself, chasing away any remnants of sleep. Upon opening the tent, she wasn’t at all surprised to find Daryl already up and roasting something on a stick that looked like a large bird. He had changed clothes and now wore a dark blue long sleeved shirt which reminded Mel of the pre-fall chill that was lingering in the morning air. Wondering how long she had slept in, Mel squinted at the sun to pinpoint its position in the sky. Nine thirty or so. Not too bad. 

She sat on the stump opposite Daryl who nodded at her. Mel returned the gesture, noticing his bruises looked more yellow today. She could only hope her memories of the past week would fade just the same. Mel rested forward on her knees and stared groggily at the sizzling carcass that would be their breakfast. An unexpected yawn gripped her tired body but it was cut short by the sharp sting of her stitches. She flinched and let out a frustrated sighed, reflexively bringing her right hand to the bandaged wound. Was there nothing she could do without the stupid thing hurting? 

Daryl took notice of her reaction and got to his feet. She watched as he walked past to the motorcycle behind her and reappeared a moment later with a gallon sized Ziploc bag stuffed with Merle’s special blend. Inside was a smaller bag that contained a few lighters and a variety of smoking paraphernalia. 

“Here.” He said, setting the bag by her feet. “It’s yours when ya need it.”

Mel nodded her gratitude as he went back to his blanket on the other side of the fire. She wasn’t one to wake and bake but if the constant throbbing in her shoulder got any worse, she might not have a choice. For now, she enjoyed the warmth offered up by the morning sun. Gently closing her eyes, Mel took in the moment. It brought her back to the days at the quarry outside of Atlanta when things had been simpler. She almost laughed at how insane the thought sounded. Looking back, it was the few nights spent by the fire with Daryl that stood out in her mind as some of the most peaceful moments she never realized she had. Such a simple thing to take for granted. 

Before long, the meat was cooled enough to eat. Mel was surprised by how well Daryl could cook over an open flame. Whatever it was, squirrel, bird, deer, he always cooked it to perfection with little to no charring. It was a stark contrast to some of the meals prepared by Jaqui back at the quarry. The thought of her brought about a sadness in Mel but after some thought she decided she was glad for her. There were worst ways to go out in this new world. 

They feasted on the juicy meat late into the morning, taking their time, not wanting the tranquility to end. Mel sensed Daryl felt the same about having her for company as she did about him. It was something in the way he carried himself when it was just the two of them. He seemed more relaxed as opposed to the guarded aura he adopted whenever other people were around. 

As they were finishing up the last few scraps of meat, Daryl looked up and cursed. Mel stiffened and followed his gaze to the farm where she saw a strange lumbering figure heading toward the barn to the left of the house. The awkward way it moved demanded her attention. It was too big to be a walker but it didn’t fit the shape of any person or animal she knew of. The more she analyzed the figure she realized it was two people holding up a third. She watched as they made their way to the shed behind the barn and went inside.

“Fuck’s all that?” Mel asked, sitting up straight as if it would help her see farther.

“Looks like Rick and Shane comin’ back with the rescue they were s’posed to turn loose.” Daryl explained, distracted.

Mel whipped around as fast as her irritated wound would allow. “Rescue? You never told me about that.” 

“Must’ve forgot.” He shrugged, watching the two men exit without the third.

“Seems like a pretty significant thing to forget.” She said with a slight accusatory tone. 

“I’ll tell ya ‘bout it later. I should go see what’s goin’ on.” Daryl said as he wiped his greasy hands on his pants and stood. He walked quickly to his bike and looped around the camp. He stopped alongside her and shouted over the noisy engine, “Ya wanna come?” 

Mel hesitated, dropping her eyes to the ground. She wasn’t ready to be reunited with the group, not yet. She could feel her throat start to close up at the thought. Finally, she gave a small shake of her head and turned back toward the fire. With a rev of the engine, Daryl sped off towards the farmhouse leaving Mel alone and bewildered.

She turned to watch him go and sighed with mild annoyance. Slouched in her seat, she conjured up different scenarios of what could have happened and started to regret not going with Daryl. The idea of walking to the house passed her mind more than once but her fear of being questioned about her absence by the others was too great. So she did the only thing she could do, wait. 

Time seemed to drag by at an agonizing pace. She took the antibiotics Hershel prescribed and a few hits of Daryl’s medication to ease the pain. An hour or so later she could hear a familiar mechanical roar in the distance. It grew louder as Daryl approached on his bike and before long she could see his face, something was wrong.

“What’s the deal?” Mel stood and leaned against one of the trees Daryl always parked under.

He killed the engine and set the kickstand but didn’t get up. Daryl sighed deeply and slouched in the seat of the bike, letting his hands fall off the raised handlebars into his lap. “Turns out the kid knows too much ‘bout us.” 

“Kid?” Mel asked with a furrowed brow.

“Some young guy.” Daryl clarified. “Says he went to school with Maggie.”

“How did you find him?” 

Daryl took a moment to think, looking from her to then the ground and back before answering. “The day we found Sophia in the barn,” His voice was low and quiet, “the old farmer took off to some bar in town. Rick and Glenn went to find ‘em and ran into this other group who weren’t too friendly. One of ‘em hurt his leg ‘n’ was left for dead. But ya know Rick, can’t leave well ‘nough alone. Had to bring the poor bastard back here.” 

Mel crossed her arms and stared intently at the ground. She didn’t say anything so Daryl continued. “Can’t afford to risk ‘em goin’ back to his people and leadin’ ‘em here so they were tryin’ to figure out what to do with ‘em.” He paused, “The idea of an execution was tossed ‘round but the other half says let him stay with us. Guess it’s gonna come down to a vote.”

“Can I see him?” Mel said flatly, still with her eyes on the ground.

Daryl thought she looked a bit paler than she had a moment ago. “The kid? I’m not sure if….”

“How can I vote if I haven’t met him myself?” Mel interrupted, pushing off from the tree and taking an aggressive step forward. She spoke with an urgency that made her voice tremble. 

Daryl stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to make of her strange behavior. The intensity in her eyes seemed to have returned overnight and he found himself lost in their vibrancy. He pulled himself out of his stupor and looked at his hands. “Rick wants me to try ‘n’ get more out of ‘em. Find out what else he knows. Ya can come, I guess.”

Mel nodded and walked up to the bike as Daryl dismounted. They both stopped, noticing the other’s movements. 

“Aren’t we going?” She asked with the same strange urgency. 

“Now?”

“Why not?” 

Daryl searched for an excuse but the words lodged in his throat. A ray of stray sunlight had filtered through the trees and caught in Mel’s eyes, making them burn like opal fire. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away to break the spell. Finally, he was able to choke out one word, “Alright.” 

Mel took another step forward but Daryl stepped away from the bike. “Let’s walk. Need to save fuel.”

Mel nodded awkwardly and waited for Daryl to lead the way. Before long, Mel took the lead and trudged a path through the tall dry prairie grass. She set the pace which was just short of a jog, unaware of Daryl who was having a difficult time keeping up. As they drew closer to the house, Mel felt a surge of anxiety but couldn’t put her finger on why. Was it the need to see who was in the shed or the need to make it there undetected? She concluded it was equal parts of both.

A weight lift from her shoulders as they reached the shed unnoticed. She was thankful that it had been built behind the barn and out of sight from the rest of the farm. Anyone positioned at or near the house would only see the large wooden gable and the forest beyond. Daryl fiddled with the lock on the shed, struggling with the rusted chain. All the while Mel’s heart felt like it was about to come out of her chest. She quickly looked around, hoping no one was going to sneak up on them. Even with the cover of the barn she felt exposed and vulnerable, but it was the anticipation of opening the shed that had her adrenalin pumping. 

Daryl freed the chain and let it fall to the ground in a light clinking thud. The door opened with a soft creek, releasing the pungent smell of old gasoline. Daryl entered the shack, leaving the door open for Mel who hesitated just outside the threshold. She lingered, peering in at the slumped figure sitting up against the plywood wall. All that was visible was their hands, hastily tied with scrap cloth. The rest was hidden in the shadows, but it didn’t matter. The dirty light blue polo he wore told her all she needed to know. Mel took a deep breath and slowly stepped inside.

“That didn’t take long.” The kid said in a high pitched voice that was thick with a southern twang. “Have y’all decided t’ let me out yet?” 

“Shuddup.” Daryl spat. 

“Sorry. I talk a lot when I’m nervous.” He squeaked then continued to babble, “I don’t mean to. You ever get like that? What about you, miss? I haven’t seen you b’fore.”

Randall continued to drone on as Daryl pulled on the frayed string of the shed’s single light bulb, filling the small dusty room with a thick yellow light. The kid was momentarily silenced as he brought his tied hands to his face and squinted up at them. He looked like a cross between a rat and a dog . He had greasy dark brown hair, big crooked teeth, a big round nose, and large dark brown eyes. 

“Gosh dang, that’s bright! I can’t never get used to that. You should have… warned………me.” Randall’s voice slowly pinched off as his sight adjusted. His eyes locked onto Mel and his dog-rat face melted into horror.

“Hello, Randall.” A voice said as smooth and deadly as a freshly honed blade. 

Daryl whipped his head to Mel with a look of disbelief. By reflex he blurted out, “Ya know him?” 

“Oh, h...hey. I… It’s… it’s you.” Randall stammered and attempted a smile but his bucked toothed grin fell short.

Mel ignored them both. She glared at Randall with such hate that Daryl took an involuntary step back from her. He was speechless, his mind fighting with how to react to this atomic bomb of a revelation. It wasn’t until Randall’s feeble attempts to back away from Mel that he snapped out of it. “How do ya know her?” Daryl demanded from the kid.

Randall held his bound hands up to his face and blubbered, “I’m s...sorry! I… I wanted to help. Honest! But I had no choice! You know what they were like! They’d of killed me!” He squawked with fear. 

Mel’s veins burned with acid as memories of her several days with Randall’s group played in her head. Suddenly Daryl threw her against the wall of the shed hard enough to shake the entire structure. Mel’s first thought was of how out of breath and dizzy she felt. She didn’t understand why Daryl attacked her like that. Disoriented, she was about to yell at him when she realized he was kneeling over an unresponsive Randall whose face was swollen and wet with bright red paint. Mel watched in bewilderment until a dull pain in her hands drew her attention. She looked down to see them dripping with the same red liquid and realized what had happened. Her knuckles were busted open in several places on both hands and a throbbing sting alerted her to the cut on her collarbone. She tried to look at it but could only see a single blood soaked corner of the bandage. 

Mel looked back at Daryl who was frantically trying to get Randall to respond. He checked his pulse several times and shook him but got nothing. Finally, he rubbed his knuckles on Randall’s sternum which got the kid to moan dully. Blood gurgled from his mouth in foamy bubbles as he gasped for air. The sight overwhelmed Mel with nausea and she began to shake uncontrollably. She stumbled out of the shed, desperate for air that didn’t smell of fuel and iron. She wanted to rest hands on her knees but stopped herself and cursed as she looked down at the blood. At that same moment, Daryl ran out after her.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” He yelled.

All Mel could do was apologizing repeatedly under her gulping breath as she tried to get away from the gurgling moans from within the shed. A concerned female voice echoed from near the house, catching their attention. Mel looked over her shoulder to see Carol, Lori, and Carl gawking in her direction with their hands shielded to the sun. Ignoring their confused stares, Mel continued walking back to her and Daryl’s satellite camp at the edge of the property. 

“Why’d ya do that?” Daryl continued to shout, “Ya almost killed ‘em! How’d ya even know ‘em? Hey! Don’t walk away from me! I’m talkin’ to you!” 

“What’s going on?” Rick’s voice echoed loudly from the house. 

Mel didn’t look back but she assumed Daryl stayed behind since he was no longer demanding answers from her. It made no difference to her. All that was on her mind was getting as far away from the situation as possible.

A million thoughts bombarded her mind as she walked. Then the tears came, hot and thick down her face. Unable to wipe them away, she ran. Mel ran as fast as her sore body would allow as if she could escape from the memories that plagued her. She continued running beyond the camp and into the woods. The trees slowed her but not by much. She pushed her body until her lungs burned and her muscles threatened to give up. It was only then that her mind found relief. 

Mel slowed to a walk, giving her body a break. After the pounding in her ears subsided, the noises of the forest filled her head. Branches creaked above her as they swayed in the light breeze. The wind whispered softly to itself with cool breath. Running water from a nearby stream babbled over rocks. Distant birds called to one another in whistling melodies. Mel took all of this in and slowed to a stop, resting one bloody hand against a tall slender oak tree. With her mind starting to clear, she honed in on the sound of the water and followed it. 

A familiar voice echoed through the trees calling her name but she didn’t respond. If Daryl was as good at tracking as he said, then he should have no problem finding her. Her only hope was that he didn’t bring a mob with him. Mel continued to follow the sound of the stream until she came upon a wide shallow creek. Its clear water cut into the red earth, exposing large smooth boulders. She walked over to a sandy edge and fell to her knees, plunging her bloody hands into the cool water. Light foot falls came from behind her as she watched the rusty color defuse into the stream in thin ribbons.

“What the fuck, Mel?” Daryl’s voice was breathless but still thick with outrage.

“He’s one of them.” She huffed without looking at him.

“What?”

“His group, they’re the ones that took me and Sophia.” Mel said between heavy breaths.

“I thought it was just the three.” He said more calmly, chest still heaving.

Mel shook her head. When Daryl remained silent, she sat up, resting her wet hands on the damp sand at her sides. She refused to look at him, staring out past the creek into the trees as their labored breathing filled the air around them. Mel looked down at her throbbing hands and said quietly, “I didn’t mean to do that.”

A single stream of sweat traveled down the side of Daryl’s cheek as he asked in a dark voice, “Did he hurt you?” 

Mel stayed silent. Lowering her head and resting her hands at her sides again. 

“What did he do?” He growled. When she took too long to answer, he walked up beside her into her peripheral vision and demanded, “Will ya fuckin’ talk to me?” 

Mel turned her head and glared up at him but said nothing. 

“He do that?” Daryl pointed at the blood soaked bandage on her shoulder.

Mel glanced down at it as if she forgot it was there. Finally she sighed, “No.” Looking back at the stream. 

“Then what?” Daryl’s voice cracked as if he was on the verge of tears. 

The torment in his voice struck Mel’s heart like an arrow. She took a deep breath and tried to speak but nothing came. She tried again and stammered, “He… It’s not like…. Fuck!” She yelled in frustration. After a few more deep breaths, she calmly explained, “He’s not the worst of them, but he’s not innocent either.” 

Mel knew that wasn’t the answer Daryl wanted but it was all he was going to get. Without checking on his expression, Mel leaned into the water again and started to rub off the blood drying on her forearms.

“I got stuff for that back at camp.” Daryl offered in a calm and sincere tone. 

Mel nodded and continued to wash her hands. Her knuckles didn’t look as bad as she thought but they still throbbed with a dull burning sensation. When all the blood was removed from her skin, she stood to find Daryl a few feet away staring at her expectantly. She glanced at him with apprehension until he led the way back to camp. As they walked, Mel was worried Dale, Rick, or even worse, Shane, would be waiting at the camp for her. When they finally arrived, she was relieved to find the place vacant. 

Daryl walked over to his backpack lying next to the tent and dug through it. He pulled out a bottle of vodka along with a dark blue bandana. He unsheathed his hunting knife, put one corner of the fabric in his mouth to pull it tight, and cut it in half. With the rags slung over his shoulder, he opened the bottle and gestured for Mel to hold out her hands. Reluctantly, she did as he asked and grimaced as the alcohol poured over her open wounds. Daryl took a quick swig from the bottle before putting the cap back on and dropped it to the ground. He grabbed one of the pieces of bandana and started to bandage her hands.

“They need to know.” He said in a low voice like the texture of gravel.

“Know what?”

“Why ya attacked him.”

Mel scoffed, “I don’t give a fuck.”

“The only reason they want to let ‘em walk is ‘cause they think he ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” He explained while starting on the second bandage.

“I don’t give a shit what they do. He sure as fuck isn’t staying here and he isn’t making it back to his group. I’ll make sure of that.”

Daryl waited to finish the second bandage before he spoke. “I don’t see that goin’ well with Rick and the others.”

“They’ll get over it.” She dismissed him and sat on the stump next to the fire pit. The flames had gone out and were now just a pile of smoldering grey coals. 

She picked at the soiled bandage on her collarbone. The tape on the bottom came off easily, having already been worked lose by the accumulation of blood but the top clung tightly to her skin. Mel took a deep breath and ripped it off in one quick motion with a grunt.

“How’s it look?” She asked. 

Daryl walked over and leaned in to examine her wound. “Two middle stitches came out. Might be alright if ya keep it clean.” He took off his button down shirt, revealing his tattered and stained tank top underneath. He balled up the discarded shirt and offered it to Mel. 

She put up a hand to refuse him. “I’ll let it scab over.” She said, her gaze lingering on his exposed muscular arms.  
Daryl let the shirt unravel and put it back on, leaving it open. “Rick wants me back over there.” He announced as he put the vodka away. He let his words hang in the air as if expecting her to say something. She didn’t so he added, “I can’t just say the kid’s a piece of shit. I need to give ‘em somethin’.”

Mel glanced at him, hoping he would just leave but, like her, he was stubborn. She let out a deep sigh, bringing her guard down. 

“If he gets back to his people and they find us here,” She said with earnest, her eyes trained on his. “They….” The words caught in her throat and Mel trailed off as tears started to fill her rainbow eyes. She clinched her teeth and swallowed hard before finishing, “That’s it. We’re dead.”

Daryl took a moment to contemplate the gravity of her words then answered in a soft voice, “I’ll try not to be long.”

As he walked toward the house, Mel took a moment to collect herself. The bag of weed on the ground beside the stump drew her attention. The bandages made her hands stiff but they didn’t hinder her dexterity as much as she thought. The weed did its job and the relaxed floating feeling returned. She wanted nothing more than to watch flames dance across a dry log with Daryl by her side. Anticipating his return, she started gathering wood by the pit. Gradually she became aware of a distant noise. At first she thought she had smoked too much because it sounded like the old farm truck Hershel drove her first day at the farm. But why would Daryl need to drive the truck back if he walked? Mel looked up and saw the familiar blue rust bucket bobbing through the golden waves of grass like an old fishing vessel. 

Mel’s fascination with the sight crumbled when she realized that the entire group was probably in that truck. She imagined them pouring out of the vehicle like Vikings landing on the shores of enemy land, ready to torture her for information. Of course they would. It was only a matter of time before they confronted her about what she did to Randall. If it was going to happen, it was going to be on her terms. In her drugged state, Mel decided it would be more effective to present the mob with her back then slowly turn to glare at them with her freakish eyes that they were all so afraid of.

With her back turned, Mel heard the truck squeal to a halt and two doors slam shut. It was her moment. Slowly, Mel turned to face the crowd with a menacing glare that would send them running back to the house like scared children. When she turned, her hardened expression evaporated into thin air. Daryl was leaning up against the front of the truck with his arms crossed while Rick stood several feet in front of him with a watery-eyed expression of bewilderment as he stared at her. 

“Hi.” Rick said cautiously, blinking the moisture from his eyes.

“Hi.” Mel replied with mild annoyance, giving Daryl a disapproving glance. He looked back at her apologetically.

“I’m glad you’re back” Rick said with earnest.

Mel shrugged with her good shoulder. “Yeah. Me too, I guess.” 

“You need something for that?” Rick nodded at her bloody stitches.

“I’m fine.” Mel said dismissively.

“Daryl told me what happened with you and Randall.” He said with an inflection that made it sound almost like a question.

“If you’re here to lecture me again like at the CDC, don’t bother.” Mel grumbled.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because this isn’t going to be like Jenner.”

Mel followed Rick’s eyes to her bandaged hands. She crossed her arms and sighed, “Look, I’ll promise to stay away from him. Out of respect for you and everyone else.” Under her breath she added, “For now, at least.”

“I appreciate that but that wasn’t why I came. It’s very important that we hear your experience with him and his group.”

Mel scoffed and turned away from him. From behind her, she heard Daryl say, “See, told ya.” 

Rick took this as an invitation to venture further into the small camp and walked to the other side of the fire pit to face Mel. She noticed his eyes lingered on the blanket and pillow Daryl had slept on the night before. 

“I know it’s hard to talk about but if he’s dangerous, we need to know.”

Mel swallowed to compose herself. “Look, all you need to know is that if his people find us here, we are fucked.” She said with intensity. “That piece of shit needs to die. End of story.”

“I can’t just sentence someone to death without an explanation.”

“How many times do I have to fucking say it? I’m not going to testify in your little Judge Judy fantasy, okay? Whichever verdict you give him, my decision doesn’t change.”

“What decision? To kill him?”

“Yes, to fucking kill him! Why is that so hard for you to understand?” Mel spat, slowly stalking around the fire pit toward Rick. “If you sentence him to death, like you should, I’m going to do it. But if for some stupid fucking reason you decide to let him stay, then you better have a guard on him day and night because the first chance I get, I’m putting a knife in his fucking neck.” 

Her last sentence was a whisper so intense that it sent a shiver through Rick’s spine. It was difficult enough for him to keep up his authoritative police officer routine around her but this was too much for him to bear. He dropped his eyes to the ground until she backed off and he was able to compose himself once more. 

Rick cleared his throat and said to no one in particular, “I’ll talk it over with the others and see where to go from here.” He paused, then glanced at Mel, “I’m glad you made it back.”

“Thank Daryl for that.” Mel said dismissively.

Rick’s eyes flickered to Daryl who was still leaning up against the truck. “Everyone else was glad to hear you’re back, too.” He continued, “I would… We would really like it if you’d come to dinner.” When Mel didn’t answer, he added, “They won’t interrogate you. I promise. Dinner is at seven. Just think about it.”

Still, Mel refused to acknowledge him but Daryl stood and gave him a slight nod. Rick nodded back then looked at Mel one last time before getting into the truck and driving off. Mel waited for him to get a good distance away before speaking. 

“Why did you bring him here?” 

“Ya know how he is.” Daryl said, walking into camp with a stray stick he picked up from the ground. He broke little pieces off and threw them into the fire pit as they talked.

“Would have been nice to know ahead of time.”

“Ya beat that kid half to death, ya really that surprised?”

Mel looked at the ground and gripped her elbows. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Why’d ya keep sayin’ that?” 

She glared at him with hurt anger then looked back at the ground. “I don’t remember doing it, okay?” She paused to sigh then continued, “One minute I’m standing outside the shed then the next you are shoving me against the wall.” 

“You were gonna kill him.” Daryl said in an apologetic tone.

“You should have let me.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

Mel thought about this. After a moment, she locked eyes with him and said with every ounce of sincerity she could muster, “Yeah. It would.”

Daryl sighed and threw the rest of the stick into the fire. “Guess it’ll make good dinner conversation.” He said sarcastically. Mel gave him an ‘I’m not amused’ glare so he added, “Might as well get it over with. They already know y’re here.”

“How could I after what happened today.” Mel said as more of a statement than a question.

“It’s gotta happen sooner or later.” He reminded her, then added, “Besides, I haven’t been able to hunt today ‘n’ I don’t plan to after this.” He stretched down to grab the bag of weed. 

“Starving me out isn’t going to work.”

“We’ll see.” Daryl said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Mel scowled at him but to her disappointment it had no effect. He lit the bowl and took a long drag before handing it to her. He released a plume of smoke then coughed out the rest. Mel took her turn, elevating the high she already had going. Daryl used the hot coals to start the campfire again and they watched the flames together in tranquil silence.


End file.
